


Kintsugi

by KMDWriterGrl



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:08:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 58,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25753330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KMDWriterGrl/pseuds/KMDWriterGrl
Summary: An act of seemingly random violence irreparably changes the lives of C.J. Cregg and Toby Ziegler, forcing them to deal with both physical and emotional fall out and helping them find one another in the process.
Relationships: C. J. Cregg/Toby Ziegler, Danny Concannon/C. J. Cregg
Comments: 9
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This massive multi-part fic deals with the after effects of being a victim of violent crime--in this case an inexplicable act of gun violence. It also delves into stalking and hate groups. If any of these subjects are areas of sensitivity, this might not be the fic for you. 
> 
> I strive for accuracy in my depictions of medical procedures, Secret Service protection, and life in the White House but since I've never had experience with any of these things, there are bound to be some missteps. Gentle correction where needed is encouraged. 
> 
> These characters are not mine and I am not profiting from them ... I'm just borrowing them from Sorkin and Company and taking them for a stroll. 
> 
> This fic and these characters saw me through the coronavirus quarantine. I hope you'll enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it!

_“We are all broken; that’s how the light gets in.” -Ernest Hemingway_

_“The world breaks everyone, and afterward some are strong at the broken places.” -Ernest Hemingway_

_***_

**Part 1:**

“Why do people keep shooting at us?” was Toby Zeigler’s first and surprisingly coherent thought when he heard the now familiar sound of a shot ringing out across the crowded plaza outside the Torrington Hotel.

He reflexively ducked his head, even though he was already inside the limo and behind the safety of its bulletproof glass. He’d barely had time to process what was happening before Mike Sanders, one of the Secret Service agents on CJ’s detail, shoved CJ into the backseat of the limo and then piled in behind her, yelling “go, go!” to the limo driver.

The limo peeled out. Tires screamed as they bit into the pavement. Sanders was shouting into his earpiece. “This is Sanders, I’ve got Flamingo in the car, repeat, I have Flamingo in the car. Can I get a status report?”

Toby raised his head from his ducked position and sought out CJ; she was crumpled on the floor at his feet. He laid a hand on her back.

“Are you okay?”

She shifted position and sat up, pushing her hair out of her eyes. “I think so.”

He gave her a hand up onto the seat.

“What the hell happened back there?” she asked. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine; I was already inside.” He brushed off the shoulders of her jacket, then jerked back when his hand came away red and sticky with blood. “Jesus.”

“What?”

“CJ, you’re bleeding.”

“I’m what?”

“You’re BLEEDING.”

She looked at his hand and did a double take that would have been funny if it didn’t so clearly indicate that she was disoriented. She patted herself down quickly, then recoiled when her own hand came away dark with blood. “Oh my god.”

Toby pushed her jacket off her shoulders. There was a blossoming stain on the right shoulder of her blouse. “Shit! Mike!”

Sanders turned to them from a conversation with Coop, their driver, took quick stock of the situation, and turned back around.

“Head for GW, Coop, or Memorial, whichever is closest!”

The limo sped up.

Sanders grabbed the first aid kit from the compartment hidden inside the limo’s cushioned seat and began pulling gauze from it.

“Where were you hit, Ms. Cregg?”

“My shoulder.” Panic was sweeping across her features.

“Anywhere else?”

CJ gave herself a second cursory pat-down and finally shook her head. “No, I don’t think so.”

“I need you to be sure.”

CJ’s laugh was wild. “I didn’t even know I was hit the first time!”

Sanders passed gauze and a roll of bandages to Toby. “Wind that around her shoulder. Apply pressure. I need to call this in.”

Toby nodded and quickly shifted position so that he was on CJ’s right side. “I need you to--” He couldn’t quite get the words out that he needed her to unbutton her shirt so he could get at her skin. “CJ, you’re going to have to--”

She got it on her own and used her left hand to undo the small buttons on the iridescent grey silk blouse. She slipped it off her shoulder, wincing, and then pulled it all the way off, leaving her in a camisole.

The wound was larger than he expected a bullet hole to be, a ragged hole with blood pouring out of it; he didn’t know how much blood from a gunshot was too much, but it seemed like way too much to him. He felt a little sick but pushed the sensation aside. He pressed the thick pad of gauze onto CJ’s shoulder and applied pressure with his right hand, slipping his other hand behind her shoulder blade for support. CJ groaned and squeezed her eyes shut.

Sanders was still on the phone to the hospital. “Entry wound above the right clavicle … no … no … that’s unknown at this time … let me check.” He put his hand over the mouthpiece. “Toby, is there an exit wound?”

He had to shift CJ forward to check and was glad to see there was nothing there but the pale expanse of her skin. “No.”

“No exit wound. I’m going to need that bullet as soon as we can get it out of her … Yes … Okay, we’re—Coop, how many minutes out?”

“Ten,” came Coop’s voice from up front. “There’s traffic on the bridge. I’m going to take another route.”

“We’re ten minutes out. Have a crash cart on standby.” Sanders ended the call. “Ms. Cregg, how are you doing?”

“Peachy,” she said through gritted teeth. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, ma’am.”

“Are you sure? Cause I don’t have a lot of luck with Secret Service agents and guns,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am,” Sanders said, clearly catching the reference to Simon Donovan.

“Is this going to kill me?”

“No, ma’am,” Sanders said firmly. “It’s going to put you in a sling for a while but that’s all it will do.”

“Is the President okay?”

“He’s on his way back to the residence.”

“You’re positive on that?”

“I am one hundred percent positive. I spoke to Special Agent Butterfield myself.”

“How did they hit CJ if they were aiming for him?” Toby asked.

“It’s too early to speculate, Mr. Ziegler.”

“I just want to know why people keep shooting at us,” CJ said, echoing Toby’s earlier thought with eerie uncanniness. She gritted her teeth. “Toby, ease up, okay, my arm’s going numb.”

“We need to keep pressure on that wound, Ms. Cregg,” Sanders replied. He motioned for Toby to change positions with him so he could take up triaging. He lifted the gauze, frowned, and applied renewed pressure to her shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” CJ asked. She groped for Toby’s hand.

“You’re losing blood pretty fast; the bullet might have nicked an artery.”

“Oh, swell. You want to reassess the part about this not killing me?” She turned her head toward Toby so she wouldn’t have to look at the increasingly reddening gauze on her shoulder. There was stark terror on her face.

“You’re going to be FINE,” Sanders assured her. “No one has died on my watch and we’re not starting with you. Coop, how far out?”

“Five minutes, maybe less.”

“They’re going to get you immediately into surgery,” Sanders said. “Just be prepared for that, okay?”

“I can’t--” CJ looked as though she was having a hard time concentrating. “Toby, get someone who’s not Josh in the press room. There needs to be a release …”

“Let’s concentrate on you being shot before worrying about work, okay?” Toby met her eyes. “Do you want me to call your dad?”

“Call my stepmother but tell her not to tell him. Not yet. Not until …are you sure I’m going to have surgery?” she asked Sanders.

“Yes, ma’am, we need the bullet.”

“You can’t just leave it there?” she asked hopefully.

“No, ma’am, it is evidence.”

CJ turned back to Toby. “Tell my stepmother not to tell my dad what’s happened until I’m out of surgery.”

“Okay. Anyone else you want me to call?”

“I don’t have anyone else.” Her breathing was ragged. “Will you stay with me?”

He met and held her gaze. “Where else would I go?”

*

The limo screeched to a stop in front of GW’s emergency room. Sanders got out first and CJ followed under her own power. The crash team helped her onto a gurney and Toby had to scramble to keep up.

They took the walk down the ER hallway at a fast clip. Medical jargon flowed thick and fast. Toby understood maybe every third phrase, but he got the gist of it: as Sanders had posited, the bullet had nicked an artery.

“Gentlemen, it is family only past this point,” a nurse said, stopping him and Sanders from going any further.

Sanders pulled out his badge. “Secret Service, ma’am, I need to collect evidence.”

“You’ll have to wait until they’ve finished their work,” she said, blocking him from entering through the swinging doors. She looked at Toby, ready to dismiss him. Desperate to get back into the ER with CJ, he said the first thing that came into his mind, which happened to be, “I’m her husband.”

He caught Sanders’ amused glance and was thankful the agent didn’t blow his cover. The nurse nodded and ushered him back into the room where a doctor and two nurses were hovering over CJ, one affixing an IV drip to her arm, the other draping her from her collarbone down. 

“—going to go in there and take that bullet out, Ms. Cregg,” the doctor was saying as he came in. “We’ll get you as good as new.”

“Will I be able to use it?” CJ asked.

“Not right away, I’m afraid.” He glanced at Toby as he moved to CJ’s side. “Are you her husband?”

“Yes,” Toby replied, pressing a hand to CJ’s good shoulder to keep her from negating the statement. “You’re going to get the bullet out? Then what happens?”

“Repair any arterial and muscle damage, then give her a transfusion to replace fluids lost through bleeding. She’s going to be fine. I’ll have her up in a room within an hour or two.”

“Are you aware that Secret Service needs the bullet?”

“I’ll make sure they get it.” He made a quick notation on the dry erase board near the door. “Ms. Cregg, we’re going to give you something to help you relax so we can get you under anesthesia, okay?”

“Okay.” Her voice was small. “Toby?”

“I’m right here.” Remembering that he was supposed to be her husband, he appended, “—sweetheart” to his statement.

“I’ll see you when it’s over?” There was anxiety in her voice now, and fear, so much that her voice wavered.

“Of course.” He laid a hand on her cheek, experiencing a wave of such sudden and intense anxiety for her that it nearly toppled him. “I’ll be waiting.”

“Call my stepmother.”

“I will.”

“Call Josh.”

“I’ll do that, too.”

“Mr. Cregg--” The doctor came over. “I need to get her prepped.

“Ziegler,” Toby corrected. “She, uh, kept her name.”

The doctor gave him an amused, “yeah, sure” look but nodded. “I’ll let you know when she’s out of surgery.”

“Okay.” He turned back to CJ. “They want me to go. I’ll see you in a little while.”

“Toby--” Her voice was so tight with fear that it nearly broke him.

“It’s going to be fine.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead gently. “I’ll see you soon.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 2:**

His phone was jammed with calls and texts. He ignored all of them and dialed Josh.

“You guys all right?” Josh asked as soon as he picked up.

“CJ was shot.”

Toby could feel Josh’s tension over the phone line. “Where?”

“In the right shoulder. She’s okay. I mean, she will be. She’s in surgery.” He tried to focus. “The press has it?”

“That there was a shooting, yes. That CJ was injured, no. What do you want out there and when do you want it?”

“Pull Will over from Bingo Bob’s office and have him handle the press room for now. Say she took a bullet to the shoulder, but she’ll be fine and is expected to make a full recovery …”

“Is she?” Josh’s voice was still tense.

“I heard the doctor say she’ll be in a sling for a bit. But, yeah, full recovery.”

“So, we should say her condition is what? Guarded but good?”

“Just go with good.” Toby sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Look, I can’t come back there yet, so …”

“We’ve got everything under control,” Josh assured him. 

Toby darted a glance to the waiting room doors; they remained closed. “If you need me, I can probably…”

“No,” Josh said firmly. “Stay there with her.”

“Call me if anything changes.”

“Likewise. And send her my love, okay? My totally platonic, brotherly love.”

Toby snorted with amusement. “Yeah, okay.”

He hung up the phone as Sanders came in.

“Do you have suspects in custody?” he asked the agent.

“Not to my knowledge, Mr. Zeigler.”

“Is there a description of the shooter?”

“Our analyst is looking at security footage from the hotel, as well as all the surrounding buildings and traffic cameras.”

“So, that would be a no on the description.”

“Yes, sir. That would be a no.”

“I couldn’t even tell you where it came from,” Toby said. “I heard the shot, but… how can you even process something that happens so fast?”

“It’s a certain skill set.”

“How do you even know where to look?”

“We know the shot came from the building for a couple of reasons,” Sanders explained patiently. “The roads around the event are cordoned off at least three blocks in each direction. No cars in or out unless they belong to PPD or DCPD, so we know the shot didn’t come from a car.” He checked to see that Toby was following before he began again. “The track of the bullet into Ms. Cregg’s shoulder had a downward trajectory. The bullet entered from a high angle.”

“Like the shooter was on a balcony?”

“He very well could have been. We’re going to find out who did this, Mr. Ziegler; it’s just going to take some time.” Noting the frustrated look on Toby’s face, he added, “I know how you feel, sir.”

The door to the waiting room swung open and admitted a nurse with a sealed plastic evidence bag. In it was a deformed and partially fragmented piece of metal.

“Agent Sanders?”

“Thank you, ma’am.” He took the bag from her. “I need to take this in. Mr. Ziegler, please give Ms. Cregg my best wishes. An agent will be in touch shortly to arrange to take your statements.”

Toby watched Sanders hustle out the door, the bag in his inside jacket pocket.

He paced around the waiting room, too antsy to sit. He watched as Will gave a statement on CNN regarding the shooting, and within a minute and a half his phone was inundated with calls. He let most of them go to voicemail, taking only Andi’s, the President and the First Lady’s, and Danny Concannon’s. The latter sounded so anxious and upset that Toby had to dissuade the reporter from immediately catching the next flight from London, assuring him that CJ would be awake and aware by the time Danny got to the airport.

By the time he had wrapped up all the calls he was prepared to take, a nurse appeared in the doorway of the waiting room.

“Mr. Ziegler? Ms. Cregg is on her way up to her room.”

“How is—did everything--” He couldn’t seem to get the right words out of his mouth.

“Oh, yes, everything went just fine.”

“Can I see her?”

“It might be awhile before she’s fully awake, but you can see her. She’s on the fourth floor.”

The fourth floor was the security floor, where the President’s suite of private rooms, offices, and guest rooms for friends and family were located. If CJ was being taken there, it was either at the President’s request or the Secret Service or both.

He wanted to allow CJ time to wake up, so he wandered over to the gift shop to look at the obscenely priced gift items. He studied the flowers long and hard before he picked out an arrangement of sunflowers and tiger lilies. With half an hour killed, he crossed to the elevator to go upstairs.

He was greeted by Secret Service agents, who moved to intercept him as soon as the elevator door opened. Showing his ID got him stiff nods and a motion to continue down the hallway to the nurse’s station where he was greeted by a friendly young nurse.

“I’m Angeline, I’ll be Ms. Cregg’s nurse for the next few hours. You’re her husband?”

If he needed to keep up that charade, fine. “Yes. I’m Toby Ziegler.” And, since he expected the quizzical look regarding their names, he added, “She didn’t want to change her name.”

Angeline looked amused in the same way the ER doctor had, so he had to assume he was simply a terrible liar.

“She’s been sleeping on and off since they brought her up from the recovery room. She’ll be lethargic for a while, but she’ll wake up entirely as the afternoon wears on. She’s hooked to a lot of equipment, but it’s all there to help her; don’t be alarmed.”

His phone rang; Josh again.

“Hey, how is she?”

“She’s not awake yet. It’s going to take a little bit. How’s everything back there?”

“About the same. Ron Butterfield left the Oval looking as though the President had had words with him.”

“Considering that this is the second shooting of the president’s administration that the Secret Service hasn’t been able to prevent, I imagine he probably did. Have they found anything yet?”

“Nothing so far.”

“Fantastic,” Toby grumbled. “Kudos to the most elite private security force in the world.”

Josh got quiet on the other end of the phone before finally saying, “I know. She’s going to be fine. It was through the shoulder, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I took one in the lung and I’m still here. Do you need me to bring you anything? Your go-bag is right in your office.”

“Yeah, that would be great.”

“I can send Donna to CJ’s for some of her things.”

Toby thanked Josh and hung up the phone, then turned off the ringer. He knew better than to turn off the phone entirely, though that’s what he wanted to do more than anything.

Angeline came out of CJ’s room.

“Mr. Ziegler? She’s just waking up. You can go in and see her.”

CJ was propped up on pillows, blinking muzzily as if she couldn’t wake all the way up. She was paler than he’d ever seen her, and a thin sheen of sweat made her skin glisten. Her shoulder was swathed in a thick bandage and layers of gauze and immobilized by a sling. She looked fragile in a way that he had never seen before and hoped never to see again. 

“Hey.” Her voice wasn’t her usual bright tone, but it also wasn’t the thready whisper Josh’s had been that first day in the hospital. “You’re still here.”

“Well, I didn’t want to go to the budget meeting I had scheduled,” he joked feebly. He stepped closer to the bed. He had to work very hard to keep himself from stroking her hair back from her forehead. “How are you feeling?”

“My shoulder feels enormous. Is it?”

“It’s heavily bandaged.” 

CJ turned her neck to look but didn’t quite have the range of motion for it. She shifted and tried to sit up, though the effort obviously took more energy than she had. Deciding not to do quite so much at one time, she settled back on her pillows again and looked around the room. She noted the tiger lilies and gave him a shy smile. “Are those for me?”

“Well, I didn’t bring them for me.”

“You’ve never given me flowers before.”

“I thought I’d wait for a really special occasion.”

CJ rolled her eyes. “Smart-ass.”

“You’ve known that.”

“What time is it?” CJ asked, glancing around for a clock. “Did they get the shooter? Does--” She swallowed the rest of her question when pain stole her breath.

“It’s 6:15pm. And, no, they haven’t caught the shooter yet.”

“Are you kidding? The hotel was swarming with security!”

“Not enough of it, apparently.”

“Jesus.” She glanced around the room. “Do _I_ have protection?”

“You’re on the security floor … no one can come up without clearance. You’ve got agents stationed outside the elevator to screen anyone who does come up.”

“They’ll probably want to debrief me soon.” CJ tried to sit up again and smooth her hair but grimaced when pain rolled through her and sank back against the pillows again, looking perturbed. 

“Like hell they will,” Toby spat. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

“I don’t think you will have anything to say about it, frankly, but I appreciate the protectiveness.” She looked at all the equipment around her. “Am I three machines worth of injured? And does any of it involve painkillers?”

“That’s small potatoes,” came Josh’s voice from the doorway. “You should have seen all the machines I got.”

Josh and Donna stood with CJ and Toby’s go-bags over their shoulders and arrangements of flowers in each hand.

“Hey.” CJ managed to sit up this time, but not without pulling at her IV line. An alarm beeped.

“Slow down,” Toby laid a quelling hand on her good arm. “This needs to stay attached to you.” Once it was clear she’d done all the moving she was going to do, he took the flower arrangements from Josh and Donna.

“There are a lot more where that came from,” Donna said, setting CJ’s bag on the armchair in the corner. “Your office is already starting to look like a florist’s.” She held up a vase of spectacular sunset roses. “These are from Danny Concannon.” She passed CJ the card. “When I saw his name, I stopped reading, I swear.”

CJ read the card, smiled, and set it to one side within easy reach. Toby bit back the urge to see what it said.

Josh set down Toby’s go bag and leaned in to give CJ a quick kiss on the cheek. “Welcome to the club. Should I make you a membership card? The President, Ron Butterfield, and I all have them.”

CJ raised an eyebrow. “It’s not a club I was hoping to join.”

“Yeah, none of us were.” Josh looked around the room, taking in all the machinery. “Hey, you do have fewer machines than I did. That’s something.”

“I didn’t take a bullet to a major internal organ.”

“Yeah, you’re playing in the minor leagues. You’ll heal up in no time, get a few weeks of vacation … it’ll be great.”

“A few _weeks_?” CJ looked panicked at the thought. “I can’t not work for a few weeks.”

“Well, as you took great pleasure in pointing out when it was me, you can’t walk around the White House with a pain pump either,” Josh pointed out.

Donna elbowed Josh. “Would you leave her alone?” She turned to CJ. “Can we get you guys anything? Something to eat? Do you need books or magazines? Carol tucked a book in there that she was going to lend you. But do you need anything else?”

“I’m not really sure.” She sat up straighter, careful not to upset her IV lines again. “Can you check what’s in my bag?”

Donna brought it to the bed and the two women looked over its contents.

Josh handed Toby his bag. “I grabbed this out of your closet at work. If you need anything, I can stop by your house.”

Toby rifled through its contents. “Was that the requisite offer that was not actually meant to be taken seriously or would you really go get a few things?”

Josh looked offended. “I will legitimately go to your house and pick up anything you need. No actual governing is happening right now. Just tell me what you want, and I’ll bring it. You guys want anything to eat?”

Toby considered long enough that Josh pounced. “I can bring back a pizza. You guys want pizza?”

“You eat like a teenager,” CJ said with a thin laugh. “You’re going to end up in here needing a triple bypass.”

“When he said pizza what he meant was sandwiches or salads,” Donna said, glaring at Josh.

“No, I’m pretty sure I meant pizza—ow!” At Donna’s elbow in his ribs, Josh said, “I’ll get whatever you guys want that will get me away from her! Jeez, Donatella, you throw elbows better than most defensive linemen.” He sidled away from her. “Toby, make me a list of whatever you need from your house and decide what you guys want to eat. I’m going to get out of here before Donna breaks me in half.”

After agreeing on sandwiches and salad and after Toby had given Josh a list of items he needed and his house key, Josh left, leaving Toby, CJ, and Donna.

Toby’s phone had been shaking in his pocket every few minutes, so he stepped out in the hallway, ostensibly to return calls but really to take a few minutes to catch his breath. He’d been moving non-stop since the moment he began triaging CJ’s shoulder in the car, and he could feel exhaustion settling into his limbs. He walked to the seating area and sank down onto the couch, leaning his head back and closing his eyes for just a moment. He wouldn’t sleep, not while his brain was whirling, but even the act of sitting down was restorative.

His phone shook again. Sam. This was one call he _did_ have to take, because Sam had been at Rosslyn and would be at DEFCON 1 at the news of what had happened.

“Hey.”

“How badly is she hurt?” Sam sounded incredibly tense.

“Not as badly as you’re thinking.”

“Not like Josh?”

“Definitely not. She took one in the shoulder.”

“CNN said her condition is guarded but good. What does that even mean?”

“It means she got hit, she lost a lot of blood, she needed a transfusion, but she’s fine. She’s sitting up and talking right now.”

“She needed a transfusion?” Sam sounded, if possible, even more wound up. 

“The bullet nicked her carotid. But we were ten minutes from GW, Sanders and I triaged her in the car, and she was fine. She never lost consciousness, never went into shock.”

“They haven’t said much on the news…no one seems sure of what happened.”

“Isn’t there footage?”

“If there is nothing’s been released to the media. Maybe the Secret Service took it all.”

Odd. Toby made a note to investigate it. “Maybe.”

“Can I talk to her?” The tension was still thick in Sam’s voice. “Just to hear her voice?”

Since Sam was undoubtedly having the same terrifying recollections of Rosslyn that he was, he understood where the younger man was coming from. “Yeah, just let me …” He walked back into the room where CJ and Donna were earnestly talking. “CJ, it’s Sam. He wants to--”

“Yeah, of course.” She started to reach for the phone with her bad arm, winced, and reached with her left instead. “Sam? I’m okay.”

Donna stood and crossed to Toby, allowing CJ to take the call in relative private.

“Are _you_ okay?” she asked. Donna had always been Josh’s assistant, not his, and they didn’t often have reason to talk to each other. He liked her just fine, but he didn’t know her terribly well. She was watching him with a calculating gaze, one that made him realize that it was entirely possible he had been underestimating Donna Moss’s intelligence and perspicacity.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You just watched your best friend get shot,” she said. “I think that’s a pretty good reason not to be.”

“I’m fine,” he said, probably a bit too quickly to be believable.

Her eyes landed on his cuffs. “You’ve got blood on your shirt.”

He looked down. At some point during the frantic ride to GW, he’d managed to roll up his sleeves, though not far enough, apparently. Upon closer inspection, he noted that blood wasn’t just on his cuffs; there was a fine spatter on the front of his tie as well.

“Oh.” It took him a moment to figure out what, precisely, to do with that information. “I should … get a clean shirt.”

Donna watched him with worried eyes. “Toby--”

“No, I’m just going to--” He picked up his go-bag and pushed open the door connecting CJ’s room to the one next door, which had been set up for family and friends. “I’ll be right back.”

There wasn’t much in the bag that was of use to him; he was glad he’d sent Josh to his house. He didn’t relish the idea of getting out of one collared shirt and right back into another, but there was nothing else for it. He pulled off his tie, then swapped out the shirt with bloodstained cuffs for a clean blue collared shirt. He dug out his toiletry kit, unwrapped the bar of soap, washed his hands, then scrubbed at the cuffs, then at his tie, though he was certain blood stains weren’t going to come out with soap cadged from hotel bathrooms.

He left the shirt and tie soaking in the sink, found the phone charger in his bag, plugged it in, then remembered CJ was still talking to Sam on his phone. He puttered around the room, now as desperate to keep moving as he had been to sit not even ten minutes prior. He combed his hair, rinsed his mouth out with Listerine, checked the other items in his go-bag, unsure what to do with himself. Finally, the voices next door stopped, and he stepped back through the connecting door.

“Sam’s okay?” Toby asked, taking the phone back.

“He wants to hop on a plane.”

“I told him to give it a few days,” Donna put in.

CJ nodded. “I don’t want him to come all this way just to sit here and watch me sleep.” She looked at Toby. “Do you know when they’re going to let me out of here?”

“Not for another 48 hours at least,” the nurse said, coming in with an iPad to take CJ’s vitals. “You’ve got some healing you need to do first. And we monitor gunshot victims closely to make sure an infection doesn’t develop at the entry wound.” At CJ’s look of confusion, she clarified, “Bullets can drag dirt and foreign matter into a wound. No matter how zealously we clean it, we must watch for infection. That’s what the antibiotics up here are for.” She pointed to one of the bags on the IV pole. “We’re keeping you hydrated here--” she pointed to the second bag, “—and giving you a transfusion here, all of which needs careful monitoring. Two to three days is the estimate if all goes well. If there’s infection or complications, it could be longer.”

CJ looked so stricken that Donna moved in closer and laid a hand on her good left arm.

“The good news,” Angeline said, “is that you can press that pain pump now, though if you’re doing okay, I would wait until you feel like you really need it.” She finished making note of CJ’s vitals. “Can I bring you anything?”

“A new shoulder,” CJ replied.

Angeline smiled. “If you need me, the call button is right here.” She directed CJ’s attention to it. “Mr. Ziegler, let me know if you need anything. I’m off shift at 11, then the night nurse, Natalie, comes on duty.” At Toby’s nod, she left the room, pulling the door shut behind her.

“Do you want to read some of the cards from your flowers?” Donna asked, drawing a stack out of her bag. “There are … well, quite a few is somewhat of an understatement.”

“Oh my god!” CJ stared at the pile. “Who are they all from?” She started to fuss with the envelopes before quickly realizing they were impossible to open one-handed. 

“Let’s see.” Donna pulled one out at random. “This one’s from Carl at CNN.” She flipped the card over to see the note Carol had appended. “It came with purple mums. And this one …” She picked up another, “…is from The New York Times. It came with white and blue hydrangeas.” 

Toby sat in the armchair as they continued going through the cards, thankful for Donna’s distraction so that he could finally look at the news coverage of the shooting. He took a deep breath, pulled up his newsfeed, and began reading.

It was the leading story on every news organization, right wing, left wing, and centrist. The details were still sketchy. There was very little in the way of eyewitness reporting. As Sam had said, there was a conspicuous absence of video, though he distinctly recalled cell phones aimed in their direction. The White House’s statement was terse, commenting only that CJ had been shot, that she was in “guarded but good” condition, and that the President had every confidence that the ensuing investigation would find the shooter. Secret Service, as was standard, did not have any comment on protection procedures or ongoing investigations. He didn’t click on any of the “breaking news” videos but he was confident that there was already a graphic related to the shooting somewhere on the major networks and maybe even theme music. He wasn’t ready to see any of that yet.

CJ’s voice called him back to the room. He looked up from his phone to find both her and Donna studying him intently.

“Sorry. You were saying?”

“What’s the coverage look like?”

“About what you’d expect.”

“Are there photos?”

“Not that I’ve seen. But I also haven’t looked that closely.”

“There are photos somewhere. Why not look for them now.”

Toby nodded reluctantly and began a Google search. There they were. Most of the photos that had been posted on social media and then grabbed by the major news organizations were just blurs of motion, details indistinct. It had happened so fast he was sure that most everyone on the rope line had been busy ducking instead of snapping away. But there was one of CJ’s face the moment the bullet hit her. Her eyes were wide, her mouth slightly open in startlement and shock. Her left arm was reaching for her right shoulder. A blur of motion on the edge of the frame was the dark suited form of Mike Sanders, ready to shove her into the limo.

“You found it,” she said when she saw his face. “Show me.”

“CJ--”

“Show me,” she ordered.

He held the phone up and watched her mouth tighten.

Donna shot him a hateful look and reached out to pat CJ’s good arm. “I’m sure not many outlets are using it.”

Toby scowled back at her. “It’s on all the major networks,” he corrected. “Let’s just be aware of where we are with this.”

“Do you really think that upsetting her--” Donna started angrily.

“I’m not upset,” CJ said. “Toby’s right. It’s better to know what’s out there. And there’s nothing we can do about it now.”

“It just seems so heartless,” Donna said. “It’s not a moment you want shared with the world.” At Toby’s raised eyebrow, she sighed, “I know, it’s the media, they don’t care. It just seems so unfeeling.”

“That’s the way it is, Donna,” Toby said. “The way it’s always been.”

“Well, maybe it shouldn’t be!” she snapped.

“Your idealism is touching, Donatella,” Josh said, knocking lightly before pushing into the room loaded with bags and a drink carrier. “Here we go… food fit for a king … or queen.” He set down the drinks, passed Toby his tote bag and his house key. “Everything should be there but if you need something else, I can go back again later.”

He pulled the tray table next to CJ’s bed close and began unpacking sandwiches while Toby disappeared into the room next door with his bag and Donna walked toward the kitchenette near the nurse’s station to see about plates and utensils.

“You doing okay?” Josh asked CJ. “Need anything?” He looked at the IV stand. “How’s that pain pump treating you?”

“I’m holding off on pressing it till I really need it,” she said.

“I got lucky … they kept me so sedated I didn’t have a clear thought in my head for at least seventy-two hours.” He stopped fussing with the food and glanced at both doors before sitting down next to her. “The first 24 hours are the worst. I do remember that much. Not because of the pain … like I said, I got _crazy_ painkillers.”

“What, then?” CJ asked.

“Fear. Of all kinds of things. Of what had happened. Of whether it was going to happen again. Of needles. Of surgery. Of hospitals—I _hate_ hospitals. Of pain and of not recovering and of losing my job and … of everything, really.”

“I didn’t know.”

“I didn’t want you guys to. No sense in freaking you all out, especially not when it felt like the entire world had lost its mind.”

Josh sat down in the chair Donna had vacated and leaned in close. “I don’t want you to go through that. So, if you find yourself waking up in the middle of the night in the next few days, call me. Having both been there and done that, I can help … and I want to be able to.” When he saw that CJ was starting to tear up, he gave her a rueful smile. “Sorry. Was that too much?”

“It’s fine.” She wiped her eyes. “Thank you, Josh.”

“Any time.” He stood and called, “Guys, are we eating or what?”

***

Eating Panera sandwiches and salads in CJ’s hospital room was not, sadly, the strangest place they had ever had dinner. Donna’s remark to that effect got them all recalling stories of various hurried meals in bizarre places from the President’s first campaign, a topic that saw them through the meal with no mention of the shooting or of the media frenzy that was going on down below. A searchlight lit up the windows at one point before Josh got up to draw the blinds.

“They know you’re somewhere on the security floor,” Josh reported, “but since they don’t have the slightest clue where that is, they’re just shining around a light and hoping for … well, I don’t know what exactly. A sign plastered to the window that says, ‘no comment’?”

Donna giggled at that and Toby rolled his eyes.

“How many are down there?” CJ asked.

Josh peeked out through the blinds. “Four satellite trucks. Pretty good-sized crowd … maybe 25, 30 people. I’m sure DCPD will run ‘em off the grounds soon.” He dropped the blinds back down when the searchlight moved past again.

CJ eyed the TV remote, but Toby set it out of her reach.

“We’re not watching the news.”

“How am I supposed to know how to respond to--”

“You’re NOT supposed to know,” Josh said. “Leo’s taking care of it.”

“Who’s in my press room?”

“Will, for the time being.”

“You let _Will_ run loose in my press room?”

“You know, you’re awfully preoccupied with work for someone who’s supposed to be recovering,” Josh said. “How about leaving that to the rest of us and you take your painkillers?”

CJ scowled, but then actually considered his words and, deciding to take the better part of valor, pressed the button on the pain pump.

“On that note, Donna and I will leave you guys alone,” Josh said, clearing all the garbage from dinner away. “Call me if you need anything. Either of you.”

“Thank you, Josh.” CJ gave him a smile that was already starting to grow woozy from morphine.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He picked up her good hand and gave it a quick squeeze. “Sleep tight.”

Toby walked Josh and Donna out to the bank of elevators. The Secret Service agents assigned to the security floor were here, one sitting at a desk and monitoring who arrived, the other walking the hallways. They were so quiet and unobtrusive that Toby hadn’t noticed them, though they had clearly been here since CJ first arrived.

“Thanks for stopping by my house,” he said to Josh. “I appreciate it.”

“Not a problem. How long are you staying?”

“As long as she’s here.” He caught the look Josh and Donna threw at each other at that but decided to ignore it. “I’ll check in tomorrow, okay?”

“Sure. Give Leo a call before then though. He’s pissed that he can’t get over here to see her.”

“I will.” Toby smiled at Donna. “I’m glad you came by.”

The warmth in Donna’s smile at such a simple compliment made Toby realize he might need to work harder at being pleasant to people.

“Thank you. I’ll let everyone know you’re both doing fine.” She jabbed at the elevator button. “And I’ll tell Will not to put his feet on your desk.”

“Wait, what’s Will doing in my office?” he asked, before Donna gave him a teasing wink as the door closed behind her and Josh.


	3. Chapter 3

**Part 3:**

CJ was asleep by the time he came back into the room. He checked the blinds—the searchlight was still making passes of the building—and turned down the lights, though he left one burning in the bathroom so the room wouldn’t be completely dark. He smoothed the covers over her, then eased the door shut between their two rooms.

He’d stopped answering his phone hours ago … the calls and texts were unrelenting. He had more texts than at any time he could remember, and they were from nearly everyone on his contact list … reporters, Congressmen, lobbyists, aides, friends, family. Leo’s number was all over the missed calls list and, unnervingly, so was the President’s private line in the Residence. The idea that he’d kept the leader of the free world waiting on a return phone call made him grimace. He dialed the private line.

“Hello.” The President was terse when he picked up but not so much so that Toby had to worry about being put on blast for leaving his phone unattended.

“Mr. President--”

“Toby, good heavens, you can’t answer your phone?”

“I’m sorry, sir. It’s been an overwhelming afternoon.”

The President’s voice mellowed. “Yes, I imagine it has been. How are you? And how is CJ?”

“She’s asleep now. She finally took some painkillers right before Josh and Donna left.”

“Abby and I both wish we could get over there to see her but with the shooter still MIA Butterfield doesn’t want me leaving the grounds. He’s not entirely sure who the bullet was meant for, so until he ascertains why everything happened the way it did …”

“Wait, sir, I’m sorry … did you say Agent Butterfield isn’t positive who the bullet was meant for?”

The President hedged. “No one is really sure of what happened out there today. No one’s taken credit for the shooting. There have been no additional threats. We know about as much now as we did after it happened.”

At Toby’s deeply frustrated sigh, the President said, “I know. Believe me, I am _not happy_ with any of my security agencies right now. But it’s still early … this is only a few hours old. They understand that I want results.” His tone turned decidedly paternal. “Have you slept or eaten?”

“Josh and Donna came by with some food.”

“Anything that you need is at your disposal. Just use the dropline … it will take you right to the White House switchboard. If you want Marcel to make meals for the both of you and send them over, I can make that happen.”

“That’s very thoughtful, sir. I’ll talk to CJ about it in the morning.”

“Toby…take all the time you need to be with her. Everything will keep functioning here.”

“I don’t want to inconvenience anyone.”

“We can limp along without you for a few days. Now, get some rest. Good night, Toby.”

“Good night, Mr. President.”

He dashed off a text to Leo, explaining that he was fine, CJ was fine, he was exhausted, and he’d call in the morning, then turned the phone to silent and plugged it in to charge. He took a steaming hot shower and changed into the City College t-shirt and sweatpants that he wore to bed. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to turn off his brain but was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

***

A shout from CJ’s room woke him up in the dead of night. Disoriented and half-asleep, he stumbled through the door connecting their rooms, casting about for something amiss. 

CJ sat upright in bed, panting, clutching her injured shoulder, her eyes wide with fear and panic. Before he could do more than start towards her, the door to her room slammed open and two Secret Service agents burst through, alerted by her scream. At the sight of their drawn guns, CJ, clearly still disoriented, scrambled off the bed and darted for the connecting door to Toby’s room, tearing out her IV line as she went.

“Put those away!” Toby snapped at them. He caught hold of CJ to stop her panicked flight, remembering at the last possible moment to catch her around the waist instead of by her arms. “Easy, I’ve got you.”

He glared at the agents. “Jesus, she was just shot! Don’t burst in here with your weapons drawn!”

The agents ignored him and began quickly sweeping the room. Once one had cleared it, they both holstered their weapons.

“Are you all right, Ms. Cregg?”

CJ was shaking with adrenaline, her breathing ragged, but she pulled herself together and stepped away from Toby’s grasp. “I had a nightmare. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I’d screamed.” She sank onto the ottoman of the overstuffed armchair. “I didn’t mean to bother you.”

The first agent—Martinez, Toby recalled—gave her a small, understanding smile. “It’s perfectly fine, ma’am. No harm done.”

“I really am sorry,” she said, blushing furiously. Her hands were shaking as she pushed her hair back from her face. 

The second agent, Johnson, glanced around the room one last time before assuring her, “It’s no bother, ma’am.”

Toby shot them a disgusted look. “We’re four stories up, surrounded by bulletproof windows that don’t open, and we have a phalanx of PPD agents outside … do you really think an armed assassin managed to find his way in here?”

The glare Martinez offered in return was enough to make Toby check his tone. “Our job is to protect Ms. Cregg against all threats or potential threats, Mr. Ziegler. My assumption when there’s a scream is that there’s a threat.”

“There isn’t,” CJ said, still blushing. Even with the sweep of hectic red across her cheeks, she looked pale. Her eyes were dark with pain. A trickle of blood ran from her hand where she’d torn out her IV line. Toby grabbed a tissue from the box near her bed and passed it to her. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s just fine, ma’am.” Johnson took a final look around the room to assure himself, presumably, that no gunmen were clinging to the ceiling. “If there’s nothing we can do, we’ll let you get back to sleep.”

“Thank you. If I have any more nightmares, I’m sure you’ll hear it. You won’t need to check in.”

“We’ll keep that in mind, ma’am.” Martinez gave Toby a stiff nod of acknowledgment and started for the door. “Sir.”

“Agent.” Toby waited for both men to exit and the door to shut before he muttered, “Yutz.”

That prompted a (slightly hysterical) giggle from CJ. “They were doing their job,” she reminded him.

“They didn’t think.” He knelt in front of her, taking her hand and using the tissue to staunch the flow of blood. “Bursting into your room with guns drawn was idiotic.”

A soft knock on the door made them both stiffen. “Come in,” CJ replied warily.

Natalie, the night nurse, stood in the doorway. “I figured I’d wait till Secret Service cleared out before checking on you. Are you all right?” She caught sight of Toby ministering to CJ’s hand and crossed to them. “Ouch. Let’s get you back in bed and I’ll take care of that for you.”

Toby stepped back into his room to run a comb through his hair, splash some water on his face, and give his teeth a quick brushing while Natalie helped CJ back to bed and tended to her hand. He was starting to feel shaky now that the adrenaline of the last few minutes had worn off; he took a few deep breaths, released them, and splashed more water on his face. He wanted to be steady for CJ, to be her solid ground in the middle of a shifting world, but he couldn’t do it if he was shaken himself. When he was confident his face wouldn’t show anything but calm, he stepped back through the connecting doorway and into her room.

She was back in bed, her hand bandaged, an I.V. line inserted in the crook of her arm instead of her hand. The TV was on, though the sound was down, and a small lamp shone on the bedside table. The nurse was quickly and efficiently braiding CJ’s hair.

“There you go. It’s much easier to keep out of the way when it’s braided.” She checked the bag of I.V. fluids. “I’ll be able to take out that line once this is finished. That way all you’ll have left is the pain pump.” She checked CJ’s bandage. “How’s that shoulder feeling?”

“Are you expecting any answer other than ‘it hurts?’”

“Scale of 1-10.”

“Mmm…” CJ considered. “Maybe a 6.”

“Try to sleep if you can.”

“No chance of that.” CJ reached for the remote with her good arm. “I’ll watch late night TV.”

Natalie smoothed the covers. “I’ll check on you later.” She pulled the door shut behind her as she went.

Toby tapped gently on the door between their rooms. “Hey.”

“Hi.” She gestured him in. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

He sat on the edge of the bed. “Don’t be.” He nodded at her shoulder. “I didn’t hurt you, did I? When I grabbed you?”

She shook her head. “You didn’t. I hurt myself pulling that I.V. line out.”

“They shouldn’t have burst in on you like that. Not after the day you had.”

“I don’t blame them. They’re trained to respond to distress; a scream is definitely something they’d react to.” CJ fixed her eyes on the window … or, rather, the blinds blocking out the light of a DC night from the window. “I didn’t think …it wasn’t like this after Rosslyn. I mean, I had nightmares but nothing like this. I thought I heard a shot and the window shatter. I thought it was happening again.”

Toby brought a hand to the back of her neck and squeezed gently, noting the tension riding her spine. Nothing he could say seemed adequate, so he just kneaded her neck and then moved his hand up to stroke her hair, realizing as he did how many barriers he was breaking tonight.

In their day to day lives, he fought to keep himself from touching her unless he absolutely had to—if he started, he knew he’d never want to stop. His attraction to her had always been that strong and run that deep. And here he was, in his best friend’s hospital room at 1am, giving in to every impulse that could reasonably be construed as comforting, touching her with the tenderness that he’s always wanted to.

“You’re safe as houses in here,” he said. “Nothing’s going to happen.”

She jerked her head toward the door to indicate the Secret Service detail. “They don’t have the shooter. How do they know he’s not in another building nearby?”

“I guess they can’t know that,” Toby admitted, “but thinking that way isn’t the healthiest approach to this situation. Let’s watch some TV until you can fall back asleep.”

CJ nodded and passed him the remote. He began flipping channels, hurrying past the news stations. The few glimpses he was able to catch all had CJ’s picture, interposed with a rifle sight. He grimaced and switched to the channel guide.

“See if they get the BBC,” CJ requested.

The hospital did, in fact, get the BBC, and he changed to it. A period drama was on.

“Perfect,” CJ said with a smile. “I love _Downton Abbey_.”

“Good.” Toby was about to shift over to the armchair when CJ’s hand on his arm stopped him.

“Do you mind--” She bit her lip and blushed, then continued. “Will you sit up here with me? And just … keep me company?”

This wasn’t new … they’d settled in next to each other on the couches in her office or his to watch TV before … news, election returns, documentaries … but it had never felt so charged, at least not on his end. He wouldn’t refuse her, though, wouldn’t deny her anything that might make the fraught night easier to bear, so he slid into bed beside her, on top of the covers, and stretched his arm across the pillows behind her head so that she could lie back against him.

“So,” he asked, hoping to get her to relax all the way, “what kind of a name is Down Town Abbey?”

He got the laugh he’d been hoping for with the deliberate mispronunciation and obligingly listened as she described each character and their back story as they came on screen. By the time they’d covered every character on the show, the episode was three-quarters of the way over, CJ was relaxed, and was leaning more heavily against him.

“If I had this much drama with my servants, I think I’d find a whole new staff,” Toby said.

“You think there isn’t this much drama in the White House?” CJ laughed. “Pay closer attention to the assistants and the interns.”

Toby raised an eyebrow. “And how is it that you know that?”

“Carol keeps me up to date. Want me to keep you in the loop?”

“I’d rather eat gravel than be privy to all of that garbage, thanks.” CJ shifted and he adjusted the pillows behind her. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I need another hour or two of 1920s drama and scandal. But you don’t have to stay up with me,” she said. “You’ve got to be exhausted.”

“Are we going to find out what happened to Edith’s missing boyfriend in the next episode?”

“Not for another couple episodes, I think.”

“Consider me in it till we find out where he’s gone to.” He poured a glass of water from the pitcher next to the bed, offered it first to her and then sipped from it himself.

CJ covered his hand with hers as the opening credits ran for the next episode. “Thank you.”

“Shh, I want to know why this Thomas guy is such a jerk.” He turned his hand under hers, so their fingers twined together, and gave her an affectionate squeeze.

In not even half an hour, she was asleep on his shoulder. He eased her down until she was reclining completely and smoothed the covers over her.

“Stay with me,” she murmured, coming briefly awake and blinking blearily up at him. “Please.”

How could he refuse?

He hadn’t shared a bed with a woman since his marriage ended; it was hard to get used to again. He got very little actual shut eye himself that night, so fearful was he of rolling over and jarring her. And the hospital wasn’t exactly a quiet place. The monitors keeping track of CJ’s vitals weren’t loud, but they weren’t silent either, and though the night nurse tried hard to remain quiet as she came in every few hours, he knew whenever the door opened. 

By 6am he was wide awake and the chances of going back to sleep were slim to none. CJ seemed to be sleeping peacefully, though, and if having him next to her helped with that, he wasn’t going to begrudge a night of lost sleep. He tucked the covers around her more securely and went to dig clothes and toiletries out of his go-bag.

After a hot shower he felt almost human again …even more so when he smelled the coffee that was brewing in the kitchenette adjacent to the nurse’s station. Angeline was back at the desk and she greeted him with a warm smile.

“Good morning. How was your night?”

“Sleepless. May I please have some of that?” he asked, pointing to the pot of coffee.

“Of course! Help yourself.” Angeline gestured to the fridge. “The only thing I have is pumpkin spice creamer I’m afraid.”

Toby prepared a cup black. He debated offering cups to the Secret Service agents stationed near the elevator before deciding against it.

“Sleepless night?” Angeline prompted.

“She was having nightmares. We watched the BBC until she could fall back asleep.”

“ _Midsomer Murders_?”

“No, _Downton Abbey_.”

“That one’s good. So is _Death in Paradise_.”

Toby grinned. “On a bit of a British crime drama kick?”

“I like it better than American crime drama.” She checked the iPad at the nurse’s station for treatment notes. “It looks like we can take out that IV line this morning now that the antibiotics are done. We’ll get her up and walking around the hallways today.”

“So soon?”

“Not soon enough. We should have had her up yesterday. We try to get ICU patients on their feet as soon as we can … it’s not good for your body to remain immobile for too long.”

“What happens then?”

“Well, it’s really a waiting game. As I told her yesterday, we monitor gunshot victims for several things—inflammation, infection, tissue necrosis. We’ll get her walking, keep her mobile throughout the day. If she’s starting to show signs of infection, we’ll run another course of antibiotics. Today is mainly about getting her on her feet, monitoring her condition, and getting her pain under control.” She glanced toward the Secret Service detail down the hall. “I imagine they’ll want to take your statements at some point.”

“Oh, no doubt.” Toby rolled his eyes.

“You don’t like the Secret Service?”

“I don’t like that they can’t do their jobs.”

“Isn’t there only so much they CAN do? I mean … how do you foresee something like this?”

Toby sighed. “Well, sure, if you want to bring logic into it.” He took a slug of coffee, winced, added some of the heinous pumpkin spice creamer and then winced again at the sickly-sweet hit of sugar. “This is truly terrible. How do you drink this without getting a cavity?”

Angeline laughed. “First time at the pumpkin spice rodeo?”

“I’m not a fan of specialty creamers.”

“I can have some milk brought up during shift change. Or you can always ask them to pick some up,” she said, jerking her head in the direction of the agents.

Toby laughed. “I’ll walk down to the cafeteria.”

“You know, you can order food from your room and the cafeteria staff will bring it up. Just dial 3663.”

“I think I need the change of scenery. If she wakes up, will you tell her where I’ve gone?”

“Of course.” Angeline gave him a sly smile. “You’re a good husband.”

Toby grinned ruefully. “Am I that bad a liar?”

“Not at all. You DO love her … I can tell. But you’re not married.”

“What gave it away?”

Angeline tapped her hand. “You’re wearing a ring … but she isn’t. And no married woman that I know skips out on wearing her wedding ring.”

“You’re very observant.”

“That’s why I make the big bucks.” Angeline picked up her iPad. “Have a good breakfast.”

*******

CJ woke up to the singularly disorienting feeling of not knowing where she was at. It took her a moment to place the sound of machines beeping and the feeling of the IV in the crook of her arm before yesterday all came back.

She sat up, her shoulder stiff and sore … every part of her stiff and sore, really and she wasn’t sure why that was. She didn’t remember falling … just being shoved into the limo.

The previous day and night started coming back to her in bits and pieces. Toby’s face hovering over hers in the pre-op room, then again when she woke up in this room. The anesthesia mask and the command to count backward from 10. Josh and Donna, flower arrangements and cards … which seemed to have multiplied during the night, she noted. A nightmare. Secret Service agents rushing in with their guns. Toby sitting next to her, watching _Downton Abbey_ , easing her into sleep. The comforting pressure of him on the bed next to her. 

She glanced around but didn’t see him. The door between their rooms was closed. He was probably still asleep; he had to be exhausted.

She hit the call button for her nurse and didn’t have to wait long before she came in, all smiles and bright cheery scrubs.

“Good morning, Ms. Cregg. How are you feeling?”

“Do I really need to answer that?”

Angeline laughed. “You’re going to feel a lot better after you get cleaned up. You can’t get those bandages wet with a shower, but there is quite a nice bathtub in here.”

In short order she was feeling a hundred times better than she had been. She still had to wear the ugly hospital gown, but she had on her favorite pair of yoga pants underneath it and, thanks to Donna’s terrific foresight, a strapless bra. Angeline helped her wash her hair in the sink and then plaited it in a complicated looking French braid.

Her complexion was completely off … she looked pale and sickly, despite the blood transfusion. She added a hint of blush to her face and a bit of color to her lips, so she didn’t look like the undead. Her left hand was shaky, so it wasn’t the most skillful job, but she figured she’d be forgiven for looking less than put together.

Her shoulder was throbbing. The pain meds she’d taken overnight had almost completely worn off. She’d asked Angeline not to hook her back up to the pain pump after getting cleaned up; the morphine had made her woozy and sleepy, and she wasn’t eager to repeat last night’s nightmares. Although the pain was making her feel feverish and a little nauseated, she was determined to stay off the pain pump for at least as long as it took her to take the required walk around the hall. 

She placated Angeline by asking for some breakfast, but the pain was sapping her appetite; she was picking at a bagel and a glass of juice when Toby arrived, accompanied by Leo and a vase of sunflowers.

“Leo!” She had to curb the impulse to stand, though she did sit up straighter, much to the consternation of her shoulder. “I didn’t know you were coming!”

“I had a window; it might be the only one I get all day.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “You look good. They’re treating you well?”

“No complaints here.”

“If you need _anything_ , just name it. You’ve got a dropline--” He pointed at the phone in the wall, “—that goes right to the switchboard. Toby’s room has one, too. Just pick it up, they’ll transfer you to me, I’ll get you whatever you need.” He set the sunflowers down on the table nearest the window.

“Thank you, Leo. I appreciate it.”

“Ron Butterfield is going to make his way over here shortly,” Leo said. “He’s going to need statements from both of you. Are you up to talking about yesterday?”

“I’m going to have to talk about it whether I’m ready or not,” CJ said.

“If you’re not feeling well, Ron will back off.” Leo studied her. “You look like you might need another hour or two of rest.”

“I’d rather get it done,” she said. “Give them something to work with. And I don’t want it hanging over me all day.”

“Only if you’re sure.” He gave her a much longer look and, noting the absence of the pain pump, said, “They aren’t giving you anything?”

“They are. I’m trying not to use it, so I’m clear headed.”

“Oh, honey, that’s a battle you don’t want to fight today. Trust me. Take your pain meds. It’s better to have you a little foggy but reasonably coherent rather than in so much pain you can’t think.”

CJ struggled, then finally nodded.

“I’ll go get your nurse,” Toby volunteered. He stepped into the hallway, leaving CJ and Leo alone.

“What’s the real reason you don’t want to take those meds?” Leo asked.

“They make me drowsy and sleep is not a place I want to be right now.”

Leo nodded sagely. “Nightmares?”

“Most of the night.”

“It’s normal.”

“It’s _awful_.”

“I know.” Leo touched her hand. “I know it is. You can talk to someone. You _should_ talk to someone. I can get Keyworth’s number from Josh.”

“I’m not good at that,” CJ protested mildly. “Therapy, talking about my feelings. It’s not my cup of tea.”

“It’s not anybody’s, really,” Leo said. “But the only way out of this is through it … and the only way through it is with help. I’ve been there. Josh has. The President has. You have to have someone who can get you out of the hole … and that’s the people who’ve been down there before and know the way out.”

“The hole?”

“Another story for another time.” Leo gave her hands a squeeze. “Just trust me on this. Take your pain meds. Sleep if you can. Take the nightmares as they come. And call Keyworth, okay? Or, if you’re not ready to take that step, call any one of us.” He darted a look at the door and whispered, “The same goes for him. Okay? It’s twice now that he’s walked away from a shooting. That’s a lot to process.”

Angeline slipped back in the door with Toby. “I was hoping someone would talk some sense into you.” She wheeled the IV pole and the bag of liquid meds over to the chair where CJ was sitting. “Let’s take a little walk, then get you hooked back up.”

She took a very slow lap down the hall, leaning on Toby’s arm. Leo stayed on her opposite side, while Angeline walked behind, monitoring her progress. It was infuriating that just a walk sapped so much of her energy, but by the time she sat back down again she was ready for a nap.

“I’ll call Ron, tell him to come around this afternoon,” Leo said after she was settled back in an armchair.

“I don’t want to inconvenience him.”

“You aren’t inconveniencing anyone. Concentrate on getting well, and we’ll handle the rest.”

Toby walked Leo toward the elevator, past the Secret Service agents. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“The President said he talked to you last night.”

“He did.”

“We’re still right where we were. We don’t know who did this. No one’s taken credit for it. No gloating online. No threats. Nothing. The Secret Service is stuck. The FBI is stuck. We are nowhere.”

“Is she safe?”

“Of course. Up here she is. We can keep her safe in whatever building she happens to be in. It’s the times in transit and outdoors that might be more problematic.”

“Whatever happened to her stalker?” Toby asked. “He was arrested, right? After Simon Donovan was murdered that all got pushed to the wayside and I can’t say I thought much about it after that.”

“I’m sure he was arrested. The question is whether he stayed in jail. I’ll get Ron to check on it.”

“Should I tell her what’s going on?”

“Would you want to be told unnecessarily upsetting things right about now?”

“Would you want to be the one to tell her that I left her in the dark on all of this?”

Leo raised an eyebrow. “Good point. Give it a few hours.” He patted Toby’s shoulder. “You need anything?”

“I have no idea.”

“Fair enough. I’ll check in on you both later.”

Toby watched his boss leave and decided that it was time for more coffee.

***

The day trudged forward in fits and starts. Around 9am, the hour that most people seemed to determine was reasonable, calls and texts began showing up on his phone. More flowers began arriving at CJ’s room.

“Is someone screening all of these?” CJ asked as Angeline brought in another arrangement.

“Yes, ma’am,” she replied. “I just watched the agents sweep it with a handheld metal detector.”

“I don’t know whether that’s reassuring or alarming.”

Toby looked up from his phone. “Donna says there are more flowers than Carol can reasonably fit in your office … what would you like her to do with them?”

“Oh.” CJ looked overwhelmed. “Well … collect the cards, make note of the arrangements, and … spread the wealth around the building, I guess.” She frowned. “How many flowers are we talking?”

Toby held up his phone where a photo of Donna and Carol gesturing helplessly at CJ’s overflowing office graced his screen.

“People know I’m not dead, right? This is what you send when someone dies!”

“If you ever needed a sign that people are devoted to you, this is it.”

“This isn’t the way I wanted to go about learning that.” She shifted and gritted her teeth when her shoulder protested mightily.

“You okay?”

“No. Try having a hole blasted in your shoulder with an assault rifle and see if you’re okay,” CJ snapped, before instantly regretting it. “I’m sorry. That was terribly rude. I don’t know where that came from.”

“It came from having a hole blasted in your shoulder with an assault rifle. Don’t worry about it; I’m hard to offend.”

“You don’t deserve me being rude to you. Not when you’ve been here with me non-stop.” She extended her good hand to him and he took it. “Thank you for that, by the way. You know you don’t have to stay here.”

“Claudia Jean Cregg,” he said. “If you think I’m going to let you sit in a hospital by yourself, you obviously don’t know me very well.” He gave her a mischievous grin. “Besides … I’m your husband. It’s my job.”

CJ laughed. “Did you actually tell them that?”

“It’s family only in the pre-op room. I had to get back there with you, so I told them we were married.”

“Is that …” CJ stopped, considered what she recalled of the previous day. “That’s right. You called me sweetheart. It was just before they gave me the anesthesia. Was that why?”

“Well, calling you Ms. Cregg would have blown that story pretty fast, don’t you think?”

“So… is this keeping up appearances?”

“No!” Toby stared at her, shocked. “Of course not! I’m here because … where else would I be?”

CJ blushed at that and didn’t answer.

And on it went, well into the afternoon. Doctors and nurses came and went. Flowers continued to arrive. Phone calls and texts from most every person they had ever worked with continued to come in on Toby’s phone. CJ gave in to the drowsy pull of painkillers several times, napping on and off in between laps up and down the security floor. Ron Butterfield came by to bring CJ’s phone, which had been recovered from the back of the limo, and to see if she was well enough to talk. He happened to stop in during one of the times when she was fitfully asleep, so he excused himself and promised to come back the following day before she was released.

The President and First Lady called, both chafing under the imposed restriction to remain in the White House until the shooter had been caught. A gorgeous arrangement of flowers arrived from them later that afternoon, along with a selection of fruits, pastries, and any number of chef-made goodies to tempt CJ’s appetite. Pain was sapping her willingness to eat but she gamely nibbled away at a chocolate croissant and some strawberries to keep Angeline from following through on her threat of a liquid nutrition supplement.

After learning that Leo had come by that morning for a visit, most everyone at the White House wanted to know if they could come by to see CJ as well, but she politely declined, telling anyone who asked that she simply wasn’t feeling up to it. Josh pushed the hardest for a visit, even to the point of getting on the phone with her, but gracefully acquiesced when he could hear the tension and pain in her voice.

“I just … I can’t right now, Josh, okay? It’s too hard for me to … It’s just too hard.”

“It’s fine. Really. I’ll come by before they discharge you. For now, watch pointless TV, take advantage of the morphine, and rest when you can.”

By late afternoon she’d been sitting up in the armchair for most of the day and had walked the hallways several times, both with and without Toby’s arm for support. She finally asked the Secret Service to turn away flower deliveries since the room was starting to smell like a greenhouse. She made short phone calls to her immediate family to assure them she was all in one piece. She was sorely tempted to make one to Danny in London, though the thought of the highly charged emotions that were likely to come from that conversation finally deterred her from dialing all 15 digits.

She sent Toby out to go take a walk with orders that he stay gone for at least a couple of hours … she could tell by his eyes he was starting to go a bit stir crazy.

She felt worse as the afternoon went on. Finally, she gave up on sitting in the armchair and got back into bed. She let her head fall back against the pillows as she watched the 1994 version of _Pride and Prejudice_ on the BBC through tired eyes.

Her shoulder was throbbing, even with the morphine.

Her head ached.

She felt alternately clammy and feverish.

She could hear her phone buzzing on the bedside table, but she didn’t want to reach for it; everything hurt so badly.

She wanted to cry but that didn’t feel like the right thing to do … she didn’t cry, not unless she was severely injured … except she was, wasn’t she? A hole in her shoulder certainly counted as being severely injured, didn’t it?

Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, but she didn’t brush them away because her whole body hurt.

The button for her pain pump was too far away to reach. So was her call button. She lay on her back, alternately shaking and sweating, tears on her cheeks, until the sides of her vision greyed out.

She woke later to a darkened room, the TV a soft hum on the wall above her. She felt much cooler. Her shoulder still ached but it wasn’t unbearable.

“Hey.” Toby’s voice beside her was a low and comforting rumble. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” She tried to turn her head to see the clock but didn’t quite have the range of motion for it. “What time is it?”

“10pm. I came back from a walk around 4:30 and found you semi-conscious. You were running a pain fever. Angeline was worried that might be an indicator for an infection, so she gave you some anti-inflammatories and called your doctor. They’re running another course of antibiotics into your system just to head it off at the pass.”

Toby touched the back of his hand to her forehead. “You’re cooler now, thank God. You were searing to the touch a few hours ago.” He hesitated, then said, “You’re going to have to stay another 24 hours while they monitor you.”

CJ groaned. “I want to go home.”

“Home doesn’t have morphine.”

She considered that, then nodded. “Fair point.”

“Can I bring you anything from home that might make you feel better?

“Not necessarily. I just … don’t want to be here.”

“I understand. Do you want to sleep again, or do you want some more British TV?”

“TV, please.”

“The Brits it is.” He settled into the armchair next to her.

It didn’t even take a full episode of her beloved show before she was asleep again. The last thing she remembered was Toby’s lips on her forehead, cool, tender, feeling for fever.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CJ leaves the hospital and heads home.

**Part 4:**

Maybe it was the combination of painkillers, antibiotics, and her body’s total exhaustion but she didn’t have nightmares that night … or if she did, she didn’t remember them on the morning of the third day in the hospital. She was able to bathe without help, though she felt weak and tired afterward. She didn’t want to lie in bed all day, though, so she took a slow walk up and down the halls of the security floor, then returned to the armchair.

Toby appeared around 7:30, looking more rested than he had at any point during the last two days. They had breakfast together—she mainly picked at hers, since she just didn’t have the strength to eat—and shared sections of the Post and the New York Times. She wasn’t the main story anymore, though a short blurb regarding her medical status (guarded but good) and that of the investigation (the Secret Service had no comment) was below the fold on the front page.

“Do they have anything?” CJ asked, pushing the paper away from her. “Leo had to have told you something yesterday.”

“They have nothing,” Toby said shortly. “No leads. No suspects.”

“Weren’t there security cameras in every inch of the building we were in? What about on the street? Was he in a car?”

“He was in the building somewhere. The bullet that hit your shoulder had a downward trajectory, so it was fired from somewhere on the second floor or higher. They just can’t figure out where.”

“They have no idea who they’re looking for?”

“It doesn’t look that way.”

“What about when I get out of here? How are they going to keep me safe? Are they going to stick me in a bag and bury me?” When Toby’s face went grey, she touched his arm. “I’m sorry. Poor choice of words. I just meant how am I going to live a safe and normal life if they can’t find who did this?”

“We’ll have to talk to Butterfield about that.”

“Wonderful.” CJ shifted in the chair and glared at the sling on her arm as if she hated it. “Some jackass ruins my life and gets to walk around free while I live in a cage.”

“You’re not going to be in a cage,” Toby soothed. “We’ll figure this out.”

That day was the same as the one before … streaming various shows, with walks that exhausted her, and visits from her doctors in between. She didn’t take calls or texts, though her phone buzzed nearly constantly. Finally, Toby plugged in an automatic response— “I’m not taking calls or texts today. Thanks… CJ”—and after that the noise from the phone died down.

After some deliberation, it was decided that CJ could leave the security floor to take a walk if she felt strong enough, so they took the elevator down two floors to the interfaith chapel. Julianne, an agent new to CJ’s detail, trailed them at a respectful distance.

“Are you going to burst into flame if you come into a church instead of a temple?” CJ joked, her hand tightening on Toby’s arm when her shoulder flared with unexpected pain.

“I guess we’ll know in a minute,” he replied dead pan, guiding her inside to one of the padded pews. They sat in silence, staring at the stained-glass windows sparkling with sunshine.

“When people use that awful ‘everything happens for a reason’ platitude,” CJ finally said, her voice pitched low, “I just want to hit them with a brick.”

Toby raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure that’s a sentiment you want to express in a church?”

“It’s such a cop-out, saying that everything that happens is part of some grand cosmic plan. What was the reason for Josh getting shot? For the President? For me? Are we the face of gun reform? Of course not, because this country will never make strides toward any meaningful gun laws, not if the NRA is in business. And it IS a business … it’s all rooted in capitalism and greed. So, what’s the point, Toby?”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s all you’ve got? Seriously?”

“Don’t you think I’ve been asking myself that very same question since Monday afternoon? The only question that’s been screaming in the back of my head is ‘Why CJ?’ I’ve watched my friends take bullets twice now. I’ve walked away both times. How do you think that makes me feel?”

“Grateful. Lucky. Ecstatic.”

“Try guilty. Ashamed. Enraged. You’ve got parts of a bullet still in your shoulder that will never come out. You’re white knuckling your way through the day despite morphine. You were moaning in your sleep last night and I’m here, helpless to do anything about any of it.” He dropped his head into his hands and let out a hard breath. “If it could have been me, I would have taken that bullet in a heartbeat. It should not have been you.”

CJ laid her good hand on his back. He was rigid with tension.

“And if it had been you, I’d be right where you are, feeling the exact same way,” she admitted. “I’m sorry. I didn’t stop to think how hard this must be for you, too.”

“Don’t be sorry. I just … I hate this for you. And I don’t know when I’ll get past that.”

CJ wrapped her good arm around his shoulders and squeezed, the closest thing to a hug she could give.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” he chided gently, disentangling himself. He swiveled so that he was facing her and brought a hand up to the side of her face to cup her cheek. 

“Toby,” she warned softly, cutting her eyes toward the agent.

“I don’t give a damn.” He stroked the side of her face, arching his thumb across her cheekbone. “Let her talk.”

She closed her eyes and let herself relax into his touch, taking what felt like her first deep breath in days.

“Do you think God’s responsible for the things that happen to us?” she asked.

His hand fell away from her face, came to rest on her wrist. “Do _you_?”

“I asked you first.”

“I don’t think that the bad things that happen to us can be attributed to a wrathful and angry God, no. There’s more to theology than that.” He studied her. “Are you asking if this is a punishment from God?”

“I guess I’m asking who I should be mad at right now.”

“The asshole with a gun is who you should be mad at,” Toby said promptly. “Not the Secret Service or the FBI … although I don’t think they’ve done such a fabulous job on their end of things. And wondering if this is a punishment from God for a perceived wrong is not the way you want to look at it.”

CJ sighed deeply. “I don’t know how to move forward from this.”

“We do it together. One day at a time.” He stood and extended his hand. “Ready to walk back?”

She took his hand and wearily stood.

“You’re going to make it,” he said quietly, looping his arm in hers. “It’s going to be fine.”

They started the slow walk back to the elevator, with Julianne whispering into her wrist mic behind them.

***

On the fourth day, CJ was due to be released from the hospital. After packing up his go-bag of clothing, Toby knocked on the door to her room. She was looking better, though her color was still off. She gave him a slight smile as he came in, but it didn’t reach her eyes… she’d had another night of rough sleep.

She was picking half-heartedly at a plate of fruit and toast, though there was more left on her plate than eaten off it. The news was on TV and she was trying to take notes with her right hand, her movements jerky and stiff.

“Good morning. Take it easy working with that arm.”

“I’m going to need to get back to work at some point. Might as well start now.”

“Just be careful.” At her nod of acknowledgement, he settled into the chair next to her. “Anything newsworthy?”

“Nothing we haven’t already heard about.”

“Any fires I might need to put out?”

“You might want to call Josh about this thing over at treasury.” She pushed her notes over to him, stifling a wince when she pulled the stitches in her shoulder.

Toby scanned the pad, then nodded. “I’ll check in once I’ve had coffee. There IS coffee, right?”

The coffee was Hawaiian Kona, strong and fragrant. Although he normally drank it black, he knew the day was bound to get stressful, especially when it was time for the tense departure from the hospital with their Secret Service escort, so he added milk and sugar to dilute it. No sense tempting an ulcer.

Back in CJ’s room, Angeline was changing the gauze around her shoulder.

“We’re going to get you back into your sling shortly so that you can keep your arm and shoulder immobilized on your way home. I want you to avoid using it as much as possible.”

CJ cut her eyes away from Toby guiltily when he gave her a “what did I tell you?” look.

“Dr. Walker will be up a bit later to check you over one last time before we release you. And we’ll send a plastic surgeon up as well to discuss your options if you’re interested in that.”

CJ looked surprised. “Is that going to be necessary?”

Angeline hesitated. “Well … I don’t know how attached you are to wearing off the shoulder dresses, but if you are then plastic surgery might be an option you’ll want to consider.”

CJ looked a little rattled at that. “Can I see what it looks like?”

Angeline fetched a mirror, but she didn’t immediately hand it to CJ. “I want you to keep a few things in mind. You were hit with a high velocity bullet … it literally tore into you. As a result, you’re heavily bruised and swollen. That will start fading out in a day or two.” At CJ’s nod of understanding, she continued. “You’re going to notice a sunken area around the entry wound. It’s a result of the cavitation that occurs when high velocity bullets strike human flesh; that will likely be a permanent condition, though you can talk to a plastic surgeon to see if they can suggest an intervention for that… fillers or collagen, maybe.”

Angeline handed CJ the mirror, then eased off the final bandage. CJ’s face went paler when she took in the extent of her injury. Toby studied it too, looked at the place where the bullet had ripped through flesh, lodged deep in muscle and tissue, and needed prizing out. He’d seen the wound when he was triaging her in the follow car of the presidential motorcade, though at the time there was so much blood and he’d been in such a state of high stress and tension that he hadn’t noted much. The wound looked less ragged now, but he was still surprised at the full extent of the bruising and the cratering of her skin. 

“Dr. Walker will likely take those stitches out within a week, maybe sooner. They’ll get you set up with a physical therapist to help you regain use of the muscles in your shoulder; you can expect pain and weakness there as a result of tissue damage.”

“For how long? I need to be able to write and type.”

“It all depends. You may regain full use of that shoulder with no trouble. But some people never fully regain functionality. There’s no way of telling until you’ve healed up enough to test your range of motion. There are still bullet fragments in your shoulder that they were not able to get out with surgery. That may also impede your recovery. It’s too early to say.”

There was a definite quaver in CJ’s voice when she spoke. “So … I’m not going to be able to leave the hospital today and go back to my normal life?”

“You’re going to have to adjust to a new normal,” Angeline said steadily. “But that doesn’t mean your life is going to be any less fulfilling.” She set the mirror aside and began bandaging and rewrapping CJ’s shoulder in fresh dressings. “I’ll let you know when Dr. Walker and Dr. Camp, our plastic surgeon, are on their way up.”

“Thank you,” Toby said when he saw CJ was too choked up to speak. Angeline nodded sympathetically and closed the door.

When his phone rang around 10am, he saw that it was Josh and opted to take the call.

“Hey, how’s she doing?”

“She’s a little shaky. They’re bringing in a physical therapist and a plastic surgeon on consults before they discharge her …. It’s all a little much.”

“You want me to stop by? Talk to her a bit?”

“Do you mind?”

“You know I don’t. I’ll let Leo know and head over right now.”

Coffee time. Again. Toby went out into the kitchen to prepare another cup for himself, diluting it even more with milk and sugar. He was feeling jittery, so he took a few laps up and down the halls, trying to work off the restless energy that was burning through his limbs. After ten minutes of pacing, he returned to CJ’s room to find her chatting with Ron Butterfield.

“Ron, how’s it going?”

“Toby, good to see you.” Butterfield shook his hand and Toby felt the raised scars from the bullet wound that Butterfield had received during the assassination attempt on the president more than three years ago. “I’m sure the two of you are ready to get out of here.”

“More than ready,” CJ said.

“As soon as we get the okay from your medical team, we’ll take you down to the car. We want to avoid the press, so we’ve arranged for you to exit through the basement and into the parking garage used for deliveries and laundry service. We purposely leaked that you’ll be going home tomorrow rather than today, so hopefully that will put off the press, though there is a rather tenacious group still outside the main entrance.”

“I’m not surprised,” she said. “We’ll be leaving from the parking garage? I won’t be visible?”

“You won’t need to step out into open air, no,” Butterfield said patiently. “You’ll have to eventually, of course, but not today. Today it’s hospital to parking garage to your home. We have had teams at your residence, and they’ve made sure it is secure.”

“What does that mean exactly?”

“It means we’ve made some adjustments to your living situation to accommodate the fact that we have not yet caught your assailant.”

“You’re still just using jargon, Ron … please tell me clearly what adjustments you’ve made.”

“We’ve switched out the glass in your windows for bullet-proof and installed a steel front door. There’s also a camera on your door and an alarm.”

“Is that necessary?”

“It’s preferable.”

“Have there been any specific threats?” Toby asked. He could feel the muscles in his shoulders tightening with tension.

“No,” Butterfield said emphatically. “Nothing specific. Nothing that would indicate anyone even knows where you live, CJ. But I would rather be proactive than reactive.”

Both men watch CJ take it in. She finally nodded. “Okay. You’ll have someone show me how to use the monitors and alarm?”

“I’ll show you myself if it will make you feel better.”

“It would, thanks.”

“I’ll ride over with you when you leave the hospital. Is there anything else I can do to help?”

“I …” CJ blushed then asked shyly, “Could I see your hand?”

Understanding immediately why she was asking, Butterfield extended his hand to her, palm up, so she could see the healed scars along his palm and then turned it so she could see the exit wound on the back of his hand.

“Does it hurt?”

“Sometimes. Usually before a storm.”

“Do you have full range of motion?”

“Not like I did,” he admitted. “The bullet broke a number of bones and tore several of the muscles. I got most of the motion back by working with a hand therapist, but it’s not like it was. Good thing I got shot in my non-dominant hand … I can still write, shoot, and tie my own shoes.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” CJ said. “It hadn’t occurred to me that I wouldn’t be able to walk out of here as if everything was normal.”

“You’ll get there,” Butterfield assured her. “It’ll take some time, but you’ll get there again. And you’ll be able to predict the weather by the pain in your shoulder.” Seeing that his attempt at humor fell a bit flat, he gave her a rueful smile. “Welcome to the club.”

CJ’s face clearly said this was not a club she had ever wanted to join. Butterfield nodded. “I know. This should never have happened to you. I’m sorry.” He rose. “I’ll be downstairs. Once we get an all clear from your doctor, we’ll get you home as quickly and smoothly as possible.”

“Thank you,” CJ said through a throat that was starting to feel constricted with unshed tears.

Butterfield nodded once and headed for the door, leaving CJ and Toby alone again.

*

Josh arrived half an hour later with a potted Gerbera daisy for CJ, though he did a double take when he stepped into her room. 

“Man, I feel outclassed,” he said, grinning at the sheer volume of arrangements and bouquets on the tables and windowsills. “Who are all of these from?”

“It feels like every person I’ve ever met,” CJ replied. She pointed at a few specific arrangements. “The hydrangeas are from the President and First Lady. The orchids are from the Post. The tiger lilies are from Toby. The mums are from CNN. The daffodils are from my father and stepmother.”

Josh looked at the card on a lavish arrangement of roses, not at all surprised to note that they were from Danny Concannon. “Another one from Danny, huh?”

CJ blushed and the color made her look healthier. “I keep having to persuade him not to jump on a plane.”

“I’m surprised he didn’t just ignore you and come anyway.” He set the flower down on her bedside table and settled into the armchair that Toby had vacated in favor of pacing around the room. “I don’t know about you, but this is right about the time I started getting sick of everybody asking me how I was feeling.”

CJ gave him a half-hearted smile. “I’m not entirely sure what to say. ‘The hole in my shoulder is still hurting like hell, thanks for asking’ isn’t what most people want to hear.”

“I know. And it feels like added pressure because you’re expected to say that you’re feeling better even when you aren’t.” At CJ’s nod, he continued, “It was maybe a day and a half after I got shot that my medical team started talking about getting me into physical therapy. I remember thinking how ridiculous that was because I couldn’t even focus without painkillers in my system. But there they were, ready to get me up and walking not even 48 hours after the worst day of my life.”

Josh picked up the remote for the TV and turned it over and over in his hands, seemingly needing something to focus on while he talked.

“They spring all of this on you before you’re ready … you’re barely even cognizant of what’s happened to you, you’re a million miles away from even starting to process it, and here are these doctors and nurses and therapists all telling you that your life as you knew it is over and that it’s your job to make the most of what you’re left with. Sound familiar?”

“Yeah,” CJ said, her voice tight. “Very familiar.”

“The thing is, they’re not wrong. You DO have to adjust. You have to make room for physical therapy, for pain meds, for a body that hurts when the barometric pressure drops, for days when you move slowly because you have to, even when you don’t want to. It’s going to suck beyond the telling of it, but you will get through it.” Josh leaned forward and put his hand on her good one.

“And here’s what I want you to understand that I didn’t—you’ll have to make time for talking to someone, whether it’s Stanley, or Butterfield, or Toby, or me. You’ll HAVE to, okay? You’re going to keep having nightmares. That’s how your brain processes trauma. It’s not just a thing that happens for a few days. They don’t really go away. You’ll have flashbacks … and the stupidest things will set them off. And you’ll have moments when you’re out in public and a car backfiring sends your pulse into the stratosphere. That’s normal. It won’t feel it … but it’s normal. You saw what happened when I didn’t take the time to talk to someone about all of this. I don’t want that for you.”

CJ turned her face away from him, working to get her emotions under control.

“We’re going to be with you through every minute of this,” Josh said. “All of us.”

A knock on the door had them all jumping, so involved they had been in the conversation.

“Ms. Cregg, why don’t we get you out of here.” Dr. Walker saw Josh and his face broke into a smile. “There’s one of my success stories. How are you, Josh?”

“Doing great.” Josh shook his hand. “I trust you did the same excellent job on CJ that you did on me.”

“She had it a bit easier than you did.” He cut through the gauze wrapping on CJ’s shoulder and then removed Angeline’s careful bandaging. “That’s coming along nicely.” He checked the sutures, lightly palpated the bruises around the injury. “A bit more swelling than I’d like … I’m going to have you apply an ice wrap to it once you get home; no more than 20 minutes every hour. Keep your arm in a sling when you’re awake; try to sleep propped up so blood can continue to circulate freely. I want to get you started on PT no later than next week so we can work on getting your mobility back. The stitches will be out by then and you won’t need to worry about exacerbating the injury.”

“The President and First Lady have already volunteered to set up the exercise room in the Residence for CJ’s physical therapy sessions,” Josh said. “Dr. Bartlett asked that you give her a call to let her know what will be required … she’ll make sure it’s taken care of.” He passed over one of the First Lady’s personal cards to the doctor, who took it with a look of surprise, studied it, then nodded and tucked it into his lab coat.

“I’ll call her immediately.”

“Josh--” CJ started to protest.

“Take it up with the First Lady, CJ, but I don’t have a whole lot of confidence that you can talk her out of anything that she’s set her mind to.”

Dr. Walker continued to examine her shoulder. “I’m not sure how much we can do in the way of plastic surgery to fix the damage from the bullet. That’s Dr. Camp’s department, not mine. But if you do want to take it into consideration, he’ll be up shortly to give you a quick assessment and make some recommendations for moving forward.” He peered at Josh. “Did you have any work done on yours?”

Josh shook his head. “Nothing outside of the cream you recommended to fade the scar.”

“How did that work out for you?”

Josh untucked and unbuttoned his shirt, turning to allow CJ and Toby to see the scar that still marred his chest. It was a long, thin incision that was clearly still fading which ended in a circle of raised white tissue where the bullet entered his body. 

“That looks excellent,” Walker said, examining his handiwork. “Those incision lines should fade out completely in another year or two.”

“It hasn’t deterred the ladies any, thankfully,” Josh said, tossing CJ a broad wink. He buttoned and tucked in his shirt again.

Walker continued studying CJ’s shoulder. “You’re very lucky. This could have been a catastrophic injury.” He pulled a tablet out of his lab coat and began making quick notes. “I’ll see you in my office in three days to take those stitches out. I’ll refer you to my preferred physical therapy team, so expect a call in the next 24 to 48 hours so they can schedule you. Ice your shoulder for 20 minutes every hour. Minimal movement and no pressure on the wound. How’s your pain on a scale of 1-10?”

“A consistent 6.”

“I’ll write an order for painkillers, enough to get you through the next three days, at which point I’m going to back you off those and onto Tylenol 3. Once those stitches are out you can also alternate heat with ice for stiffness and soreness.” He made a final note on this tablet. “I’ll have those filled and brought up to you so we can get you home. Someone is driving you home, correct?”

“The Secret Service.”

Walker smiled. “Any questions for me?”

“I think I’m fine.” CJ attempted what she hoped was a normal smile. “Thank you for all of your help.”

“My pleasure. I’ll see you in a few days to get those stitches out.” Walker left just as the plastic surgeon stepped in. After a brief consultation which amounted to very little but an appointment once her stitches had come out, the surgeon left, Angeline came back into re-dress her shoulder, help her into the sling, and drop off the pain pills.

“Agent Butterfield just got off the elevator,” she reported. “It looks like they’re ready for you to leave.”

Josh looked around the room at all the floral arrangements. “What do you want to do about all of these?”

“Oh! Well, I certainly I can’t take them all with me.” She glanced at Angeline. “Can you make sure these find their way to the children’s ward or the intensive care unit? Preferably to people who don’t have anything in their rooms?”

“Absolutely,” the nurse promised. “I can think of quite a few people who would love them.”

“But you’ll take mine with you, of course,” Josh teased. “Because you’ve never received nicer flowers.”

“Of course,” CJ smiled. She looked around the room. “And I’ll take the one from the President and First Lady.”

“You’ll want these too,” Josh said, picking up the arrangement of roses from Danny. “And the ones from Toby. Any others?”

“No, I think that’s it …” CJ swung her legs over the side of the bed and readied herself to stand. “My bag is somewhere …”

“I’ve got it.” Toby slung it over his shoulder with his own. “Do you need a hand getting up?”

“I’ve got to take her down in a wheelchair,” Angeline said. “Hospital policy. Wait a second and I’ll get it.”

Butterfield entered the room. “Ready to go?”

“More than ready.”

He smiled at Josh and Toby, who both had flower arrangements in their hands. “You’ve got your own entourage.”

“No more than I deserve,” she said brightly, trying to hide her nervousness at leaving the safety of the hospital with a flip remark.

Angeline returned with the wheelchair and helped CJ into it, making sure she was comfortable before wheeling her into the hallway and toward the elevator. Butterfield led the group. Josh stood on her right, Toby on her left, and two Secret Service agents fell in at the rear of the group.

“Any press?” CJ asked as they rode downstairs in the elevator.

“No, we’ve managed to dodge that bullet rather nicely.” Realizing what he’d just said, he winced. “Probably not the best choice of words for this group. Sorry.”

Josh laughed bitterly. “Of the four of us who’ve been shot at, only one of us actually dodged it. I’m not sure I like those odds.” He turned to the agents behind CJ’s wheelchair. “How about you guys? Ever been shot?”

“In Iraq, sir,” one of them said.

“On the line in Chicago,” said the other.

“Gee, you think we’ve got a gun problem in this country?” Josh asked rhetorically.

The elevator stopped at the basement level. Butterfield and the two agents exited first, then motioned for CJ, Toby, Josh, and Angeline to follow. At the end of a long hallway, they pushed through a door to the concrete parking garage where one of the black motorcade limos was waiting. CJ had a moment of anxiety contemplating whether it was the one she had been shot in then realized, of course, that the FBI would still be processing that one as evidence.

The driver took the bags from Toby and stowed them into the trunk while Josh got into the car with all her flower arrangements. Angeline helped CJ out of the wheelchair and into the car.

“Thank you so much for taking such good care of me,” CJ said to her. “I appreciate all your help.”

“You’re welcome. Be well. Get home safely.” She gave Toby a warm smile and squeezed his arm. “Take care of her.”

“I will.” Toby slid into the car on CJ’s left side. She was wrangling with the seat belt with her good hand. Josh leaned over from the rear facing seat and helped her with it, prompting an exasperated sigh from CJ.

“How can I get anything done with one hand?”

“You adjust,” Josh reminded her. “Remember what I said about asking for help.”

Butterfield climbed into the back and took the rear facing seat next to Josh; both of his agents rode up front. The car started and they drove out of the garage. CJ found herself tensing up as they turned out onto the street, not entirely sure what she was bracing herself for until she realized that she expected to hear a gunshot.

They were on a completely different section of the street in a completely different section of the city from where the shooting occurred, so why did she feel as though she had a sniper scope trained on the back of her neck? She clenched her good fist and tried to quell the urge to sink lower into her seat, out of the sightline of anyone who might decide to take a shot at what was clearly a motorcade car.

They drew to a stop at a light and the tense, frightened feeling was worse … at least a moving target was harder to hit. She felt her breath hitch in her throat.

“You okay?” Toby murmured next to her.

“I’m just--” She couldn’t figure out what she was. Anxious? Scared? Traumatized? She couldn’t put a name to it, but it was making her throat feel as though it was closing. She took in one shallow breath, then another, panic stirring when it felt like she couldn’t get enough air.

Josh, who clearly understood what she was going through, leaned over and touched her hand. “Take a deep breath.” When she did, he prompted, “Good, now do it again, then keep doing it until you feel calmer. You’ll be fine in a minute.”

Butterfield nodded in agreement. “It takes a few minutes before you won’t feel like a moving target.”

Josh took off his sunglasses and handed them to her. “Put these on. They help.”

CJ slipped the glasses on, glad that they both darkened the outside and hid her eyes … she could feel tears building.

Toby slid his hand into hers and she gripped it like a lifeline.

“Did this happen to you?” CJ asked Josh and Butterfield, her fingers still tight around Toby’s. “Is this why you guys decided to come with us in the car?”

“It happened to me in spades,” Josh said, “but I was still so hopped up on painkillers I thought I was just having some sort of strange panicky side effect. It wasn’t until Ron stopped by later that day and asked me how I’d done on the ride home that I told him.”

“This happens to most everyone who’s been shot or shot at,” Butterfield said. “It’s your brain and body’s response to trauma.”

“So, yes, we wanted to take this ride with you, so that if you had a panic attack, we could be here to help you stay calm. How are we doing so far?”

CJ wiped a stray tear from her cheek and laughed, a little wildly. “A-plus.”

“I’m thinking more of a B- but thanks for the thought.” Josh passed her a bottle of water from the mini bar, then, chagrined, took it from her, opened it, and passed it back. “Sorry. Make that a C.

CJ took a sip of water, though her hand was shaking so much that she bobbled it. Josh caught the bottle, screwed the cap back on, and tucked it in at his side.

CJ reclaimed Toby’s hand. His fingers circled her wrist, sliding gently across her pulse point to help her stay calm. More than anything else, that seemed to help, and she was soon able to sit up straighter and control the urge to hyperventilate.

Ten more minutes brought them to her townhouse, where the limo parked on the street. Butterfield got out first, unlocking the street door and ushering them inside. Josh followed with the flowers, while Toby took CJ’s good arm and helped her out of the car and up the steps into the foyer. Butterfield showed CJ the security cameras installed in the hallway outside her door, the keypad for her new alarm system, and the monitors just inside her door that would allow her to see anyone in the hallway.

“Is this necessity or just precautionary?” CJ asked again, still unsatisfied with his earlier answer.

“Whenever possible I’d rather be proactive than reactive,” Butterfield explained.

“Is anyone else on the senior staff getting these sorts of precautions?”

Butterfield’s hesitation spoke volumes.

“So, it IS just me.”

“You’re very visible, CJ,” he explained. “And we have yet to find anything to suggest that you were merely collateral damage … that they were aiming for the President or First Lady, say, and that you took a bullet by accident. As far as we can ascertain, this was meant for you and you alone, and for that reason we want to be extremely careful with you from here on out.”

The statement made her stomach clench, but she forced herself to stay calm. “And you guys still have no idea who it is?”

“We’ve requested some assistance from Behavioral Science at Quantico to see if they can build a profile on our shooter. Their technical analyst is looking at all the footage from all the cameras up and down the street and in the buildings nearby. They have resources available that the Secret Service does not; it’s my hope that they can come to a conclusion.”

CJ nodded. Her face felt cold. “Thank you for being frank about it. I’d rather know what I’m dealing with up front.”

“Behavioral Science just got the case this morning. My hope is that they’ll have something by the time you’re able to go back to work. In the meantime, stay in and rest. If you need to leave, don’t hesitate to call one of us … we’ll take you wherever you want to go, whether that’s errands or just a walk somewhere. Don’t go out alone. Someone needs to be with you at all times.”

CJ nodded mechanically.

“I’m sorry, CJ. I know this is a lot to take in on your first day out of the hospital.”

“Her first HOUR out of the hospital,” Toby said, frowning. “This couldn’t have waited, Ron?”

“I’m not in the habit of soft-pedaling it with my protectees.” Butterfield put a hand on CJ’s good shoulder. “We are going to do everything in our power to keep you safe.”

“Thank you, Ron,” she said through numb lips.

“Get some rest. I’ll check in on you later.”

Butterfield left, leaving Josh and Toby, several flowers, and a fraught silence.

“So.” Josh clapped his hands together. “How about those Capitals? They’re having a great season!”

Toby glared at Josh, but CJ burst into laughter. Josh looked relieved. “I figured that would either make you laugh or make you deck me, and I honestly had no idea which it would be.” He set down the go-bag he was carrying and perched on the edge of her armchair. “Feeling any calmer?”

“Not really,” she admitted.

“Why don’t Toby and I get out of your hair for a while? You can sit back, relax, watch some TV …”

“Do exactly what I’ve been doing in the hospital for the last four days, you mean?”

“Well, sure, except now you get to do it at home. One or both of us can come back by later and bring you some dinner.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“It gets me out of the office and believe me, now is a VERY good time to be out of the office. There’s a lot of yelling coming from the Oval.”

“Will you bring me some work?” CJ asked hopefully.

“I absolutely will NOT,” Josh replied just as Toby responded with his own emphatic negative. “You need to rest.”

“I’ve been resting for four days!”

“No, you’ve been in and out of a medication induced haze for four days. That’s not resting. You’ll be singing a different tune in about an hour.”

She WAS tired now that she was letting herself think about it, but she wasn’t about to admit that to Josh. She turned to Toby instead. “You’re the one who needs to get some rest. Go home, do some laundry, sleep in your own bed.”

“I will. But I’ll come back by later.”

“You don’t--”

“I know I don’t. I want to. We have all that _Downton Abbey_ to finish, remember?”

CJ laughed. “We do have five seasons left.”

“Well, there you go. When you think of something to eat that pairs appropriately with a British drawing room drama, let me know. I’ll pick it up and bring it by… and I’ll drag this one with me, too.” He pointed at Josh.

“We’ll see you in a few hours,” Josh promised. He gave her an extremely gentle hug. “Call if you need anything.”

Toby kissed her forehead, a gesture that Josh noted with a raised eyebrow. “I’ll see you later. Get some rest.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CJ has two discussions--one with Danny on the phone, the other with Toby over dinner.

**Part 5:**

It was only once she was alone in her townhouse that she realized she might not actually want to be alone after all. But she wasn’t going to ask either Josh or Toby to stay just because she was feeling jittery, so she tried to push all of that to the side and concentrate on doing the chores that went along with being home again. She put a load of clothing in the wash, including the clothes she was wearing the day she was shot. Her blouse was gone, taken as evidence by the FBI, but her favorite pair of black tailored slacks and her camisole had both been bundled into a plastic bag at the hospital and then tucked into her go-bag by her nurse. She dropped everything into the washer and spent a few uncoordinated moments wrangling with the laundry detergent with her left hand.

Laundry in the machine, she decided to tackle the long list of missed calls and texts from that day, starting with her father and stepmother, then moving on to Leo (who promptly put her on with the President for a hurried but heartfelt conversation), then on to Carol, who, like Josh, refused to send her anything even remotely resembling work.

She dumped the laundry in the drier, tried to change her sheets one handed and realized very quickly she wasn’t going to be able to manage it, and was just sitting down with a bottle of water when her phone rang, an unfamiliar number flashing on the screen.

“Hello?” she murmured into the receiver.

“CJ? Are you there? I can barely hear you.”

Her heart leapt and she clutched the phone harder. “Danny?!”

“What’s going on? How are you? Are you still in the hospital?”

“No, I just got home maybe an hour ago. Are you still in London?”

“I am … but I can catch the next plane if you want me back there.”

“You can’t just fly back here on a moment’s notice!”

“Watch me. If you need me, I’m there.” His voice pitched a bit lower. “Do you need me?”

Yes. God, yes. But she wouldn’t admit it; she wasn’t ready to take that leap with him, not yet. She hesitated only the slightest bit before deliberately misconstruing what he meant by ‘need’ and said, “No, I’m okay. Toby’s been extremely helpful. I don’t need anything.”

“That’s not exactly the kind of need I meant, sweetheart … but we’ll save that for a time when we’re on the same continent.” His voice was a caress in her ear. “You said you just got out of the hospital? How are you feeling?”

“I’m not enjoying doing everything with only one arm, that’s for sure.”

“The reporting has been kind of skimpy, so I don’t know any details. How bad was it?”

“According to my doctor, I had the best kind of gunshot wound you can hope to get under the circumstances … a single GSW from a high caliber, high velocity bullet that barely missed my collarbone and shoulder blade. It entered my shoulder but didn’t exit … and about 15% of it is still in there. The bullet nicked my carotid artery, but they fixed that up and I only needed a small transfusion.”

“Jesus!” Danny sounded shocked, something she had never heard in the unflappable reporter’s voice. “They’re just going to leave it in there?”

“It fragmented. They would have done more damage trying to remove all of it.”

“Can you move? Are you functional?”

“I can move. I’ll be more functional after physical therapy… or so they tell me.”

“CJ …” The raw note of sorrow in Danny’s voice gave her pause. “God, baby, I wish I was there with you.”

“Danny, I’m okay. Really. I’m …” A surge of tears welled up in her throat and she had to stop to get her voice under control. She swallowed hard. “I’m fine.”

Danny’s voice was rough. “I should be there. I shouldn’t be stuck all the way over here where there’s no ice in your drink and you have to pay to get a plastic bag at the grocery store.”

“That’s what you’re choosing to complain about? Ice and plastic bags?”

“Well, London is pretty great other than that.” His voice grew serious. “I can come home right now if you want me to. Seriously. I have a ton of time off built up. I can take a week.”

“I appreciate the sentiment. It would just be a very long week of you watching me sleep, ice my shoulder, take painkillers, and start physical therapy and that’s no fun for anyone.”

“I don’t mind any of that.”

“But I don’t want you to see me like that. Look, why don’t you wait on coming back here until I’m fully functional again. Then I’ll let you take me to dinner. And drinks. And dessert.”

“You’ve got your idea of dessert, and I’ve got mine,” he teased. “Which one are we going with?”

“You’re incorrigible,” she said with what felt like the first genuine laugh all day.

“I think you mean insatiable.”

“I’m starting to think it’s a very good thing we’re on separate continents.” She let her voice soften to a tone she only used with him. “Thank you, Danny. For being so kind. And for the flowers … they’re gorgeous.”

“Just like you.” His voice grew tender. “Call me if you need me, okay? I can jump on a plane and be there in nine hours. Or I can be with you over the phone any time you need it, day or night.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

“I’ll check in on you later … after you’ve taken your pain meds. That’s when you’ll be the most fun.”

CJ laughed. “Sounds good. Bye, Danny.”

“Bye, sweetheart.”

She felt better after the phone call; a bit more normal. She put together a bag of ice, wrapped it in a dish towel, and sat down with it … only to be jerked out of a sound sleep she didn’t even remember falling into by the sound of her phone.

“Hello,” she mumbled, trying to sit up all the way, wincing when her shoulder protested.

“Hey.” Toby’s voice came down the line. “Are you okay? Did I wake you up?”

“Yeah … but that’s okay. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” She glanced at the clock—5pm. She’d been asleep for two hours. “Are you at home?”

“Since Josh threatened to pull my clearance if I came into the White House, yeah. But I thought I’d come over for a while if you aren’t too tired.”

The early winter darkness was starting to set in outside and the more that she thought about it the more she realized she really didn’t want to be alone in the dark, despite her newly bulletproofed windows and steel front door. The tightness in her chest that was an unpleasant mix of fear and anxiety ratcheted up at the thought of remaining alone after so many days of constant company … and thus constant safety. “Do you mind?”

“You know I don’t. Should I bring dinner?”

“That sounds great.”

“Thai? Unless you want something bland and British….”

“Thai sounds perfect.”

“Want me to call Josh or the others to join us?”

“No, just us, please. I’m not sure I can handle being around anyone else right now.”

“I’ll see you shortly.”

Her phone was loaded with texts and voicemails that had come since word leaked that she left the hospital. She wasn’t ready to deal with all or even most of them, but she did respond to her brother and niece, her stepmother, and Sam, who again offered to fly in from California to spend a day or two with her but whom she again politely rebuffed, telling him to wait until the next federal holiday when they’d all be off from work. She returned calls from Josh, Dr. Bartlett, and Ron Butterfield before turning the phone on silent and setting it aside.

She spent a few minutes making herself presentable, then set her kitchen table one handed. She was trying to fold the napkins, and doing a clumsy job at it, when the buzzer sounded. She checked the new monitor to insure that, yes, it was Toby, then hit the button to release the door locks.

“You have a detail outside,” he said as he swept in with bags of Thai and a six pack of Tsing Tao. When he noticed her eyeing the beer, he shook his head firmly. “Not with you on Percocet, you’re not. Don’t even think about it.”

“Why would you bring it over here then?” She sounded petulant, she knew, but she was tired despite the unexpected two-hour nap and was starting to really feel the pain of her injury. Now that she was out of the hospital there was no convenient pain pump to press … just an ice pack and a painkiller that was not going to be nearly as effective as morphine.

Toby studied her closely, then nodded. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I’ll go put it back in my car.”

Now she felt like a jerk. “No, don’t be silly. Have a beer. It’s fine.” She gestured him over to the table. “I’ll make do with tea.” She grabbed some utensils out of the silverware drawer and brought them over to the table so he could start serving up dinner, then found a pilsner glass in her cabinet and brought it to him. “I have a detail, you said?”

“Secret Service. Two in a parked car in the lot, two outside on the street.”

CJ groaned. “The American people should not be footing the bill for this.”

“The American people foot a lot of bills for many more unreasonable things than your temporary Secret Service detail. I wouldn’t worry about it too much.” He grabbed seasonings out of the cabinet and brought her an iced tea from the fridge. “What did you do with your afternoon?”

“Nothing scintillating. I did laundry. Iced my shoulder. Danny called me from London.”

“Can he explain the intricacies of cricket yet?”

“Actually, I’m pretty sure he can. He’s oddly up to date on weird sports.”

“How’s the coverage over there?”

“Clearly not what it is over here. He didn’t even know the full extent of my injuries.”

“Leo and Josh kept the specifics out of the press,” Toby said. “All that they put out was that you’d been shot in the shoulder.” He took a sip of beer. “When he’s coming back to the states?”

“He offered to come back now, actually, but I said he didn’t need to bother.”

“Danny offered to come back from the UK? Right now? And you said no?”

“I said no.”

“You told the guy who is clearly head over heels for you not to come rushing back from the UK in your hour of need?”

“My hour of need? Oh, c’mon, Toby!”

“CJ … you really turned down Danny?”

“He has a job to do. I would never get in the way of that! What’s he supposed to tell his boss—'I need to leave because this woman I used to work with got herself shot?’”

Toby sipped his beer. “It’s what I did, didn’t I?”

That brought CJ up short. “Well, yeah, but …” She stopped. She had no idea how to read his face or his body. “Do you feel like you’re obligated to be here? Because you aren’t. If you don’t want to …”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

CJ ran her left hand through her hair, infuriated yet again that she couldn’t move her right arm. Everything felt so much harder when she had to do it with her non-dominant hand. “It might be the pain meds because I’m not clear on what you _are_ saying.”

“Why do you think I’m here, CJ?”

“Well, because … we’re friends. I mean, I’d be right there with you if the situation was reversed.”

“You think I’d do this for all of my friends?” he asked.

“Not _all_ of them.”

“Not even most of them,” he corrected her. “So why would I, who takes so much pride in being a total misanthrope, spend four days and nights with you in a hospital?”

“Toby, I--” CJ faltered, on the edge of a precipice she wasn’t ready to tumble off, not with Toby, not with Danny, not with anyone when she was trying to hold herself together by what felt like a few loose threads. “I can’t do this right now. Please. I just … I can’t. Not when my shoulder hurts and I feel like I’m going to go out of my mind because doing everything left-handed is so hard and the dark is creeping in outside and freaking me out …”

“No, that’s fine, it’s okay,” Toby soothed. He laid a hand on her left arm. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. I didn’t think.”

“I know we should talk about this eventually, but I can’t, not now.”

“It’s fine.” He raised his hand as if to touch her hair, then lowered it. “Forget I said anything, okay? Let’s finish eating and watch some more _Downton Abbey_.”

CJ nodded, but couldn’t eat anything else. She shoved her plate aside.

“Dammit, I’m such an idiot.” Toby stood up and extended a hand to her. “Come over here with me.” He walked them over to the couch. “You know how I feel about you. It’s been there since we first started working together in that house race in New York more than ten years ago. There’s never been a good time to explore it, so we’ve both just learned to live beside it and take advantage of those times when we can flirt and dance and drink too much in the hopes that that might be enough.

“But then Rosslyn happened, and that really got me thinking about what matters. But you and Danny were headed toward something. I didn’t know what and I’m not sure you guys did either, so I told myself it wasn’t going to happen for us. It was going to be you and Danny because it just seemed like Danny fit you better. But then Danny left, and came back again, and then left again for London, and I didn’t know what the hell to think, so I did what I normally do, which is put it on the back burner and didn’t think about it for a while.

“And then Monday happened. You were bleeding in my arms in the car and I was praying about as hard as I’ve prayed for anything that it wasn’t going to be like Josh and Rosslyn all over again. Right before we got you onto a gurney at GW, I asked who else you wanted me to call other than your father and stepmother. Do you remember what you said?”

CJ shook her head. “I was pretty out of it.”

“You said, ‘I don’t have anyone else.’” He paused to let that sink in for a moment, then continued, “Claudia, I want to be your someone else. If that’s frightening or upsetting for you, I understand. We can work that out. But if it’s Danny who you want to be your someone else, then you should ask him to come back from England and help you recuperate. I’ll stay right here with you until he comes through the door. And if you don’t want it to be him… if all of this didn’t scare you off … then I’ll stay right here and help you recuperate myself.”

CJ met his gaze, her eyes dark with pain and tension and strain.

“If you want me to choose between you and Danny right this second …”

“I don’t. Truly. I just want you to think about what’s going to get you through this. You don’t have an easy road ahead. I don’t want you throwing away a chance with him just because you don’t like the optics.”

“Our jobs are largely about caring about optics.”

“Only to a certain point.”

“I’m going to remember that next time your blood pressure is up because of an inopportune photo or a salacious rumor about someone on our side.” 

“Point taken. But our lives--yours, mine, and Danny’s--shouldn’t be dictated by optics.”

“But they will be for a while, especially with this.” CJ gestured at the sling on her arm. “You know as well as I do that the story on my first day back at work is how I _look_ in front of that podium … injured, tense, scared, angry, none of which are going to be options, by the way. I’ll need to go out there and look damn near invincible. The press is going to be looking for any angle to make more of a meal out of the shooting than they already have. Having Danny reappear after nearly a year in the UK would make us prime fodder for gossip couched as news. Same thing if anyone happens to see you leaving my building. There’s legitimately no way to win this from an optics standpoint.”

“Honestly, CJ, I could not care less. My priority is to get you through this. Everything else is noise and static.”

Her face softened. “What did I do to deserve this kind of devotion from you?”

Toby cupped her face just as he had the previous afternoon in the chapel, stroking along the arch of her cheekbone with this thumb. “Asked and answered.”

She studied his face, a heartbeat away from leaning in to press her lips to his. He got there first and kissed her gently on the cheek instead.

“Wait to kiss me until it’s what you really want.” His hand dropped to the side of her neck, then to her uninjured shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

“Like someone stuck an ice pick in my shoulder and twisted it.”

He passed her the remotes for her TV and DVD player so that she could queue up _Downton Abbey_. “Lie back. I’ll get you an ice wrap.”

They settled in, CJ on the couch with her shoulder wrapped, a blanket draped over her legs, and Toby in the armchair with a bottle of beer.

“Am I going to spend the entire series wanting to smack Lady Mary?” he asked after they finished an episode.

CJ grinned. “She is a horrid bitch, isn’t she?”

“Edith isn’t much better.”

“I just feel sorry for Edith. She has rotten luck.” She shifted, trying to rearrange the pillows so that her neck got some support. “Do you have one more episode in you or do you need to get home?”

Toby came around to the arm of the sofa and sat down behind her. He slid cool fingers along the back of her neck and rubbed gently. “I can manage one more. Why don’t you let me crash in your guest room tonight? That way I can be here if you need anything.”

CJ gave him a flirtatious little smile, better able to handle the emotions they discussed earlier now that she was feeling calmer and her shoulder wasn’t flaring with pain. “What do you think I might need in the middle of the night that you could provide?”

“Other than pain pills, water, an ice wrap, another pillow …”

She laughed. “Point taken.”

“What did you think I was offering?” he teased.

“A little physical activity to help me fall asleep…”

She’d fallen back on teasing and easy flirtation, as was their way, tiptoeing closer to the line that neither of them had ever been willing to step all the way across. Toby, however, walked right up to that line and then stepped over it entirely. He leaned in close to her ear and whispered, “When we end up in bed, Claudia, I’ll keep you up all night.”

A bolt of pure lust shot through her stomach at that. She hadn’t given more than the occasional thought (well … maybe more than occasional if she was being honest) to what it would be like to sleep with Toby. But now …

She laughed unsteadily. “Do you really think it’s fair to wind up the woman with a massive shoulder injury? We can’t do anything about this right now.”

“Oh, there are quite a few things we can do about it right now. But they’re going to have to wait till you’re feeling stronger.”

Good God. She hadn’t thought she could get any more wound up.

“We’re not waiting long,” she replied, meeting his gaze with eyes that were hot with desire. “Not now that you’ve put that image in my head.”

“No, baby.” He brushed a kiss across her temple. “Not long.”

And then as if they hadn’t just been talking about sleeping together, he asked, “One more episode?”

One more turned into one and a half more … until Toby was gently shaking her awake.

Luckily toothbrushing didn’t take much skill to do one handed. The face wipes and washcloth didn’t require much dexterity either. She took her sling off long enough to put on a tank top to sleep in. Even that much movement sent pain slaloming through her shoulder.

She had to ask for Toby’s help making the bed with fresh sheets. She was struggling with the cap on the bottle of pain pills when he came back in with water and another ice wrap.

“Trying to function one handed is really starting to piss me off,” CJ fumed, finally relinquishing the pill bottle to him.

“You’ll be able to take the sling off in a few days,” he reminded her. “Just leave the top off the darn thing in the meantime.”

CJ bit her tongue to refrain from pointing out that it was more than just the pill bottle that was bothering her.

Toby read her look and grinned. “You wanted to take my head off just then for being obtuse. I’m not … but it’s entirely too late to talk about how we’re going to handle the next several days.”

“I’m sorry to have upended your life like this.”

“The asshole with the gun upended your life. You have nothing to feel sorry for.”

“At least here I won’t have to worry about armed Secret Service agents bursting into my room in the middle of the night.”

“Ron gave them what-for about that, by the way,” Toby said. “Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome is the subject of the next round of training at Treasury precisely so that doesn’t happen again.”

“They were doing their jobs,” CJ said, slipping the cumbersome ice wrap around her shoulder and leaning back on her pillows. “I’m not going to fault them for that.”

Toby snorted. “Forgive me for not putting a ton of faith in the people who’ve let three of my closest friends be shot on their watch.”

“They couldn’t have predicted that Neo-Nazi assholes would try to shoot Charlie and catch the President and Josh instead. No one could have.”

“There was chatter.”

“There’s ALWAYS chatter, especially about the kids. Presidential children get nearly as many threats as their parents for some sick and inexplicable reason. As far as they knew the uptick in chatter was Zoe moving out of the residence to go to Georgetown. The threats didn’t seem credible.”

“And this?” He gestured at her shoulder. “What the hell is the explanation for this? Four days later and they’re still clueless! Aren’t you pissed off?”

“Mostly I’m tired and in pain,” she admitted. “But I’m sure pissed off will come eventually.”

Toby softened. “I’m sorry. Of course, you’re tired.” He smoothed her covers unnecessarily. “Call if you need me.”

“I’ll be fine.” She lay her good hand over his. “Thank you. Truly. I don’t know what I can do to thank you.”

“You don’t have to.” He tipped her face up to his, leaned down, brushed his lips tenderly over her forehead. “Sleep well. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He stayed up a bit longer, listening for her, before retreating to the guest room to get ready for bed. After a last check on his phone—it felt like all he did any more was check his phone—he finally set it aside to charge and settled in with a novel from CJ’s bookshelf. He kept the door cracked, the better to hear her if she needed anything, but clearly the pain pills had done their job. Once his eyes were too heavy to concentrate on the page, he let himself drift off too.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trauma from the shooting starts to manifest. Danny and Toby help where they can.

**Part 6:**

Just as it had the first night in the hospital, her terrified scream woke him up. Disoriented, half asleep, he hit the side of the doorframe in his hurry to get to her, jamming his own shoulder.

He didn’t want to burst into her bedroom the same way the Secret Service agents had, so he made himself walk and then gave a cursory knock on her bedroom door. 

She was awake and sitting up, but her eyes were wild. He wasn’t sure whether she recognized that it was him in her bedroom, as opposed to someone attempting to harm her, so he spoke before he moved toward her bed.

“It’s me. Are you okay?”

“I heard a shot!”

“You didn’t. You’re safe.”

“ _I heard it_.”

“You were having a dream.”

Her eyes darted wildly around the bedroom, coming to rest on the window. “I heard the window shatter.”

“It didn’t. You have bullet-proof glass, remember?” He sat down on the edge of the bed, took her good hand, squeezed her fingers to get her to focus on him. “It was a dream, CJ.”

“Are you sure?” Her breathing was ragged.

“I’m positive.”

“There’s no one out there?”

He moved to the window, parted the curtains, checked outside, not because he thought someone was out there but because he wanted to offer her reassurance. “There’s no one out there. If there was, your detail would be all over him.”

“It was a dream?” Her voice was shaking.

“That’s all it was.”

A shaky half-sob shuddered out of her, which she quickly clamped down on. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to--”

“Don’t apologize.”

“I shouldn’t have--” She was full on shaking, her breathing quick and ragged. “I could have sworn I heard it.”

“It’s okay.” He lay a hand on the back of her neck and squeezed gently.

“But it’s not--”

“It’s _fine_.” He let his hand drop to her back and rubbed in slow circles. “Breathe, baby. It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. It’s not okay. This cannot be my life.”

Toby moved onto the bed and she willingly made room for him. 

“This cannot be my life,” she repeated, taking in a shuddering breath. “I don’t want this.”

He kept rubbing her back. “I know.”

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have woken you up.”

“Hey. Stop apologizing.” He eased back on the bed with her. “Try to get some sleep. I’ll stay right here.”

“You don’t have to. I’m really okay.”

The look in her eyes said otherwise. He tugged gently at her good arm until she sank down onto his chest. “I’m not going anywhere.”

***

He woke up from a deep sleep to the glorious smell of coffee brewing. From down the hall he could hear the ding of the toaster and then CJ muttering low curses as she tried to make toast one handed. He took a quick shower and headed into the kitchen in just jeans and a t-shirt, feet bare, hair still wet but combed back.

“Are you sure you should be drinking coffee with painkillers?” he asked, picking up the bottle of pain pills and peering at the warning labels. “Isn’t that technically taking uppers and downers at the same time?”

“If I’m going to get through the day with only one functioning shoulder, I’m going to need coffee.” She waved him into a chair and brought a cup to him, passing him the milk and sugar as well. “Want some toast?”

“Not as much as I want a bagel. Any chance you have one of those?”

“Sorry. I haven’t been to the store. I need to go there today. Butterfield said I need a Secret Service escort if I’m leaving the building, right?”

“We’ll set it up. You don’t have to go out if you aren’t feeling up to it. You can just make a list and I can run out.”

CJ shook her head decisively. “No, I need to get outdoors. I’m going to go stir-crazy if I’m inside much longer. And, no offense, but I don’t trust you to do my shopping. I’m very particular about my brands.”

“Are you sure you don’t mean very peculiar?” he teased, getting up to put bread in the toaster.

“You are such a smart-ass.”

“Every time you say that as if you’re surprised by it. How was the rest of your night?”

“Better with you in my bed.”

Toby gave her a wolfish grin. “Most nights usually are.”

She laughed, then sobered. “I’m sorry if I kept you up.”

“You didn’t. I slept like a log.” He nodded at her phone. “Still getting texts and calls?”

“Let’s see … this morning I’ve heard from Leo, the President, Mrs. Bartlet, Charlie, Josh, Donna, Will, and Carol, making it a clean sweep of the west wing. I’ve also heard from my stepmother, my brother, and my niece. The only reason I haven’t heard from Danny yet is that it’s lunch time in London and he’s taken to walking in Hyde Park to get out of the newsroom.”

“You have a lot of people who care about you. Any errands other than the grocery store?”

“The bookstore?” she suggested. “If I’m forced to be home, I may as well read.”

“Sounds good. Anywhere else?”

“Work?” she asked hopefully.

“Nope.”

“Toby,” she pleaded.

“Absolutely not.”

“Toby!”

“Is there some part of ‘you need to rest’ that you’re not understanding?” He couldn’t help laughing a little at her sour expression. “Let’s get out for a while and then we’ll see how you feel. Does that work?”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re saying it to placate me. I know damn good and well you’re not going to go anywhere near the White House.”

“You’ll thank me for it later. Come on.”

***

One of the positive sides of having a Secret Service detail was that she no longer had to contend with DC traffic. She wouldn’t have been allowed to drive, even if she could physically handle it—her restored old car wasn’t bullet proof or equipped with all of the GPS tracking devices that allowed the Secret Service to keep an eye on the car, no matter where it was in the city. From that point forward, until her detail had been lifted, she had a driver. It was a little odd being ferried to the grocery store in a black SUV, but she figured she’d better get used to it.

She didn’t recognize the agents who were sitting in the lobby of her building, but she did recognize Julianne, who held open the door of the SUV for her.

“Ma’am.”

“Thank you.” Toby slid in beside her and reached over to help with her seatbelt before leaning forward to let Julianne know they were ready.

That same feeling of tension, anxiety, and fear from the day before crowded in on her as soon as the car started rolling. Was there a sniper scope pointed at them right now? There were hundreds of black SUVs in the city, almost all of which belonged to diplomatic motorcades or various security agencies, so it wasn’t as if they stuck out like a sore thumb. But still. What if someone was watching? Someone had been watching five days ago. Taking out a high-powered rifle. Sighting it. Pulling the trigger. 

Her hand clenched on the seat cushion. Toby noticed.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m just…” She took in a shaking breath. “I can’t really…”

He got it without her having to say it. He responded exactly as he had yesterday, and circled her wrist with his fingers, his thumb moving over her pulse point.

“This entire car is bulletproof,” he reminded her. “Right, Julianne?”

“Yes, sir.” The agent glanced in her rearview mirror. “Are you all right, Ms. Cregg?”

She couldn’t bring herself to say she was having the start of a panic attack. She nodded instead. “I’m fine.”

“It’s not a problem to have groceries delivered if you don’t want to go out,” Julianne said, her voice matter of fact.

“No, I’ll be fine. I just need a minute. Keep driving, please.”

“If you change your mind, just let me know.”

“You’ll be the first.”

The SUV slowed and then stopped for pedestrian traffic. CJ felt her breath involuntarily catch.

“Julianne, have you got a favorite radio station?” Toby asked. “One that isn’t NPR?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Can you turn that on? If it won’t distract you, I mean.”

The radio came on. 80s hits rolled through the car. Air Supply was wrapping up. Journey came on.

CJ found her fingers relaxing their grip on the cushions.

“I’ll spare you my singing,” Toby said, and she smiled involuntarily. “Unless you want to hear me butcher ‘Don’t Stop Believing.’”

CJ laughed. “Not unless it’s karaoke and you’ve had a few beers.”

“Next time Will insists, I’ll lead off with it.” He leaned across her, pulled her purse closer and unzipped it. “Try putting on your sunglasses.”

They had helped ease the panic that came from being in a moving car yesterday. She found them and slid them on, darkening the world. It did help. She let go of the seat cushion. Toby’s hand remained where it was. The light brush of his fingers helped ground her. 

Once they were out of the maze of smaller side streets and onto the main thoroughfares, she could more fully relax. She took comfort in watching the familiar scenery streak by. The graceful spires of the Air Force Memorial and the solid bulk of the Pentagon flashed past on her right as they merged onto the highway.

“You know, I haven’t been to the Smithsonian in the longest time,” she mused, trying to get her mind off her panic. “We could go to the Museum of Natural History one day.”

Toby cast her an amused glance and went along with her train of thought. “I never pegged you as a fan of taxidermy.”

“I’m not. I love the Hope Diamond. And the ocean hall. I wish the national aquarium was still here.”

“If you’re set on the aquarium, we can drive to Baltimore.”

Sure. They’d drive to Baltimore and she’d be a wreck an entire way. She didn’t justify that with a response other than, “I don’t think Julianne would appreciate that. Besides, it’s always slammed with people. I’m not sure I’m ready for crowds.”

“Let me know when you are … we’ll make it happen.”

“If I’d known it would make you this accommodating, I’d have arranged to be shot years ago.” She was trying to be flip, but the remark fell flat, even to her ears. At his grimace, she asked, “too soon?”

“WAY too soon.”

They went to a grocery store well out of the way of her normal neighborhood. It was midmorning and thus fairly quiet, but there were enough people out and about that CJ tensed up getting out of the car. Julianne waited for word from the advance team that the store was secure before ushering them inside and then falling in behind them with a basket of her own, presumably to blend in.

They moved through the aisles methodically, CJ pointing out items that she needed when she couldn’t reach them or lift them while Toby steered the cart. She encouraged him to pick out things he liked as well and agreed on items that they’d both like for lunches and dinners. The bagels were procured, as was his brand of coffee— Deathwish coffee, he noted with chagrin, which made her laugh more than anything had in days.

There was a Barnes and Noble next to the grocery store, which, it occurred to CJ, was probably why Julianne had chosen that store … less time in transit, fewer stops to make. Toby packed the groceries into the SUV while Julianne walked to the bookstore with CJ.

“I’m sorry you got stuck with this,” CJ apologized.

Julianne peered at her. “Ma’am?”

“You could be on a prestigious rotation at the White House and instead you got saddled with me.”

“Believe me, Ms. Cregg, this is a nice change of pace. The White House can get very …” She searched for a word. “Over-stimulating.”

“Too many guys with body armor?”

Julianne laughed. “I have no problem with the body armor. Too much machismo. There’s only so much misogyny I can take every day, you know?” She held the door for CJ. “I have no problem being on your detail, Ms. Cregg.”

Feeling a bit better about the whole thing, CJ wandered into the fiction section, looking for new books from some of her favorite authors. Time to read had been hard to come by in the last several years, so there was quite a lot to catch up on. She gathered a stack of books, then looked for a place to sit down with them. Much to her distress, she was starting to feel weak-kneed after what felt like a relatively small expenditure of energy.

She ordered an iced tea and took it to a small table, then texted Toby to let him know she was in the café. The brand-new issue of TIME lay open on the nearby table, and she reached for it with her left arm. To her shock, she ended up looking at herself on the front cover.

It was a picture of herself at the podium in the briefing room. The crosshairs from a rifle were superimposed over her photo. “TARGET: The Bartlet White House” ran the lead, then underneath, “Josiah Bartlet. Joshua Lyman. Claudia Jean Cregg. Three key political players affected by gun violence in America.”

Her lips felt numb. So did her fingers. She flipped clumsily through the pages, searching for the article. It wasn’t so much an article as it was a series of large and graphic photos with short synopses of the shooting at Rosslyn, and at Monday’s event at the Torrington.

The largest photo was of the chaos at Rosslyn the moment after the shooting started. The photographer must have been on the rope line … the view of the steps outside the Newseum was one she didn’t recognize. The photo was full of motion blurs, but the central unblurred image was Gina Toscano, Zoe’s Secret Service agent, her gun drawn and pointed toward the top floor of the Newseum where the gunmen had lain in wait. Other Secret Service agents and DC PD were beside her, either in the process of drawing their weapons or with them already out. It was the sniper across the street that picked off one of the gunmen, CJ recalled. Gina never fired a shot.

The second photo was smaller, but no less jarring: Josh being loaded into the ambulance at Rosslyn, his shirt soaked through with blood, his head lolling on the gurney, eyes half shut. Sam was off to one side of the frame, hopping into the ambulance with Josh, who was swarmed by paramedics.

The third photo was the President on a gurney being rushed into the ER, snapped from just outside the automatic doors at GW. It was another photo with blurs of movement, a frenzy of doctors and nurses descending on the president, but his face was clearly visible, lined with pain, his hair disheveled, his tie askew.

The fourth photo was of her. It was the photo Toby had shown her that first night in the hospital—her face the moment the bullet hit her, a moment that she still couldn’t recall. She couldn’t remember feeling the impact of the bullet or Mike Sanders shoving her into the limo along with Toby. Her first coherent memory after hearing that shot was being face down on the floor of the limo, her ears ringing.

There was one other photo, one she’d never seen before. It was the fence bordering 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, awash in a sea of flowers, candles, and signs. Bouquets were stacked up 3 and 4 deep along the fence; some were even tied to the fence itself. Pillar candles in glass jars glowed among the stacks of flowers. Handmade signs, some incredibly elaborate and artistic, others clearly written by children, were perched among the flowers or tied or taped to the fence, all bearing a similar message: “thoughts and prayers for CJ Cregg.”

CJ stared at the picture, stunned. 

“I was really hoping you weren’t going to see that.” Toby sat down across from her, looked at the photo, flipped to see the cover of the magazine, and sighed hugely. “For fuck’s sake, why did they have to run that?”

“Is that … is that why we’re not going by the White House?” she asked, barely recognizing the small voice issuing from her lips.

“Yes. NPS is trying to clear all of it from the grounds, but it just keeps arriving. And some of it’s not technically on park service property since it spilled over into the street and no one’s sure who’s in charge of clearing it. It’s a much bigger hassle than it needs to be.” He rolled his eyes. “Josh has been keeping me up to date on it since yesterday.”

“That’s a SHRINE, Toby! That’s--”

“That’s a ton of people who care about you who are fed up with the gun problem in this country.”

“Oh my god.” She stared at the photo, eyes filling with tears. “I don’t even know how I’m supposed to feel about that!”

Toby covered her hand with his. “That’s not what you need to be worried about right now. You need to rest and recover and that’s all you need on your plate.” He slid the magazine out from underneath her hand, shut it, shoved it aside, and picked up her stack of books. “Let’s get out of here, okay? Head back home.”

CJ nodded. She felt like she was running on autopilot. She let Toby carry her stack of books to the register where she paid for them, doing her best to ignore the same magazine displayed very prominently at eye level. The clerk was, fortunately, too wrapped up in her own concerns to make note of the fact that she was ringing up the person whose face was on the front cover next to her shoulder. CJ took the bag of books with her good hand and left before anyone else in the line could take notice of her.

Back in the SUV, she put on her sunglasses again, leaned her head back against the head rest, and shut her eyes, hoping the rhythm of tires on the road would lull her to sleep.

She was SO damn tired.

***

Toby went back to his place that afternoon. She insisted. She didn’t want him to feel as if he was obligated to remain with her while she convalesced. So, after they’d unpacked the groceries, she feigned sleepiness and said she’d just like to take a nap for a few hours. He should head home and catch up on some work. He studied her closely … he could tell she was feeling rocky about the magazine coverage … but finally agreed. He’d check in on her later for dinner and some more _Downton Abbey_.

That gave her the whole afternoon by herself. After putting an “I’m not taking calls at the moment” automatic response on her phone to stave off the flood of “how are you feeling today” texts, she wrapped her shoulder in ice, propped herself up on some pillows, and settled in to read one of the books she’d picked up.

She couldn’t concentrate. She was so keyed up from everything that had happened over the past 24 hours—her release from the hospital, her panicked awakening the previous night, the fear that gripped her just riding in the car to the store, the TIME magazine story, the photo of that enormous shrine in front of the White House—that she couldn’t settle. She wanted to talk to someone. Not Toby though … she had put enough of her trauma and pain on him for one day. Leo? Josh? Should she call and get Keyworth’s number? Then it hit her who she wanted to talk to, and she found herself dialing 15 numbers into her phone.

“CJ?” Danny’s warm voice came down the line. “Am I really getting to hear from you twice in two days?”

His voice relaxed her like nothing else could. “Hi, Danny. Am I bothering you at work?”

“Not at all, but even if you were, I’d drop everything and talk to you just the same. How are you feeling? Or are you sick of everyone asking that?”

“I’m coping.”

“That’s an excellent non-answer. Now how about you level with me and tell me how you’re really feeling?”

“My shoulder hurts,” she admitted. “REALLY hurts. The pain is so bad it makes me want to scream. I can’t admit that to Toby because he’ll fret. I can’t say it to Josh because he’ll get concerned and quiet and urge me to talk to someone. And if I tell that to my doctor, he’ll just remind me that I need to get off opioids as soon as possible and recommend extra-strength Tylenol instead.”

“I can tell you what I’d say if I were there. Would that help?”

“It might.”

“Grab your pillow and scream into it. I know that sounds flip, but I’m serious. If it hurts so much that you want to scream, do it. Don’t keep it bottled up. You’ll feel better once you do.”

“I should scream?”

“Into a pillow or something so that your neighbors don’t call the cops.”

“So that the Secret Service doesn’t break down my door, more like.”

Danny got quiet for a moment. “They gave you a detail?”

“Two agents in the lobby of the building, two outside. And a driver.”

“Well.” Danny blew out a breath. “That sounds like fun.”

“Yeah, it’s a laugh riot.” She sighed. “Did you see the new issue of TIME today?”

“Not yet. Should I?”

“You should.”

“It probably came with my mail. Hold on a second and I’ll look for it.” She could hear Danny shuffling papers. “Here it is. Well. That’s an evocative cover, isn’t it?”

CJ grinned at his dry remark. “Look inside.”

She listened to him flip pages. “Oh. Oh, wow.” He was almost inaudibly reading the captions of the photos to himself. “I’ve never seen that one of Rosslyn. Or the one of Josh.”

“I hadn’t either.”

More pages flipping. Then, “Oh, baby. My god.” She knew he was taking in the photo of her being shot. “I can’t--” He swallowed hard, trying to hold his voice steady. “Who was that pushing you in the car?”

“Mike Sanders.”

“Where was Toby?”

“In the car already.”

“Did you--” He had to steady his voice again. “Did you know you’d been shot?”

“That’s what was so odd. I didn’t. It wasn’t until Toby put his hand on my shoulder and it came away bloody that any of us got a clue about it. It didn’t hurt.” She laughed a little. “Strange, because it hurts like hell now.” She sighed. “Flip the page again.”

Danny did and whistled long and low. “Wow.”

“Right?”

“ _Wow_. That’s a LOT of flowers.”

“Can you imagine what it would have looked like if I’d died?”

“I don’t even want to think about it,” Danny said, his voice suddenly going rough. “I can’t imagine losing you.”

The intensity in his voice nearly took her breath away. “Danny …I’m really scared.”

“I would be too.”

“He’s still out there.”

“I know.”

“I woke up last night thinking I’d heard my window shatter.”

“I can come home,” he said instantly. “Any time you want me to, just say the word. I don’t want you to wake up alone and terrified.”

“Toby stayed with me. I wasn’t alone.”

That gave Danny pause for a moment. “Well, that’s … good. I’m glad.” Something in his voice made the words a lie.

“He’s my best friend, Danny,” she murmured. “He’s been with me nearly every minute since the bullet hit me.” She chose not to mention that they had been discussing sleeping together the night before, or that he’d remained next to her in her bed after her night terror.

“I just wish I could be there with you,” Danny said. “Even if it’s to listen to you scream into your pillow. Which you should do, by the way. Seriously. Have you got one nearby?”

“I’ve got several.”

“Put the phone down, put that pillow right up to your face, scream into it, and then tell me you don’t feel better afterward.”

“Challenge accepted.” CJ put the phone down, placed the pillow on her lap, leaned over, and screamed into it, letting all of her anger and frustration and pain come pouring out of her in a long five second scream that, actually, did make her feel better. She picked up the phone again.

“Where do you come up with these hare-brained ideas?” she joked. Her voice was raspy from the scream.

“Tell me you don’t feel better,” Danny demanded.

“I can’t tell you that. It did help.”

“That was a pretty intense scream. I could hear it through the phone. Does it hurt like that all the time?”

“Most of the time. I’ve got some Tramadol I can take shortly … that might help.”

“Do you know what I would do if I were there?”

“Not a clue.”

Danny’s voice got tender. “I’d slip my hand around the back of your neck and pull you close to me. Then I’d kiss you so gently and so slowly that you wouldn’t have anything else to focus on but my mouth on yours.”

“Oh, Danny.” That nearly brought her to tears. “I’d love that,” she whispered.

“Why don’t you think of that, then, when the pain gets too bad.”

“That sounds good.” A tear slipped down her cheek, but she brushed it aside.

“As soon as you’re ready, I’ll come home, and we’ll do that for real. Okay?”

“Thank you, Danny.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. Take that Tramadol and try to rest.”

“I will. We’ll talk again soon?”

“You know it. Call me anytime you need me, day or night.”

She set the phone aside. She felt better after talking to Danny, more in control. His calm demeanor and his clear warmth and affection for her were a balm to what felt like permanently shattered nerves.

She found the prescription bottle on her counter and tossed back a pill with a handful of crackers. When the soft-focused sleepiness that came with the opioids came over her a short time later, she lay back against the pillows and imagined Danny’s hand on her forehead, stroking her hair as she fell into a (thankfully) dreamless sleep. 

***

It was a slow process, getting back to some sort of normalcy. She was exhausted far more often than she cared to acknowledge to herself or admit to anyone else, even after doing tasks which used to be practically effortless. Taking a walk down the block with her agents in tow was enough to cause her to need to sit down and sometimes even to nap afterward. She was getting better at completing tasks with only her left arm, though sustained, complex ones like cooking were still problematic. When she unconsciously reached for items with her right arm, she ended up with shooting pain, tingling, and numbness for her trouble.

With Toby back at work—he’d returned to the White House three days after her release from the hospital—she needed to fill her days, and most of her time was spent either reading books she’d missed over the last five years of non-stop White House work, or binge watching TV. She spent an hour each morning by herself and one each evening with Toby watching the news and keeping up to date on domestic and international events. She called in to talk to Josh and Leo far more often than they deemed appropriate given that she was supposed to be recuperating, but they always took her calls. Josh, who clearly remembered having spent an inordinate amount of time on the end of her phone when he was convalescing four years ago, was patient, more so than she would have expected, and filled her in on most anything she wanted to know, though he always ended their conversation with the reminder that she needed to be resting, not working.

Toby still spent evenings with her. Some nights, too, if she’d had a particularly bad day with pain or panic or both. If she had medical appointments scheduled, she saw him on those mornings; he always made time for those in his schedule. She pointed out that there was no value in keeping up the charade that he was her husband; surely her doctors had figured out they weren’t married. But he still insisted; he wanted to make sure she was never alone for anything that might be upsetting or painful.

He was in the room with her when Dr. Walker removed her stitches, then manipulated her shoulder for the first time since the shooting. She had gripped Toby’s hand hard enough to bruise, but he didn’t complain, just stroked the inside of her wrist and murmured, “You’re doing great, Claudia; stay calm,” while she sat rigid and tried not to cry out. Once it was over, her arm back in a sling, he asked, deadpan, “Is this the sort of thing that deserves ice cream?” She had laughed shakily at that and agreed that, yes, it did. Julianne drove them to a Baskin Robbins when they left the medical complex and Toby had bought shakes for everyone, including her agents.

He’d also accompanied her to her first session of PT. Afterward, when the pain from moving her injured shoulder was so intense that she felt faint and nauseated, he wrapped her shoulder in ice, sat with her on the couch, and watched three straight episodes of _Downton Abbey_ until she felt able to move again. Toby had been, and continued to be, her rock.

Almost every single afternoon contained a conversation with Danny, either via text or phone. She was initially hesitant to rely on him so much, sure that she was bothering him at work, but that he was too nice to say so. Finally, he reminded her that it was evening in London whenever they talked, and she stopped feeling so guilty about calling.

Danny was always ready to help her put her worries and fears in perspective. He could make her laugh in a way that no one else could, not even Toby or Josh. He could pick out the quality in her voice that meant she was in pain, and on those days, he had her scream into a pillow. Afterward, when her voice was graveled and broken, he painted her word pictures of London and the English countryside, including Highclere Castle, the basis for Downton Abbey, which he had visited with a tour group shortly after arriving in London.

He still got a falsely bright note in his voice when she mentioned Toby, but he’d largely accepted that if he couldn’t be there to care for CJ, at least there was someone who could.

“You’re not sleeping with him, are you?” Danny asked one day, out of the blue.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but no,” she answered archly.

“It’s not my business?” Danny’s voice got dangerously quiet. “Really?”

“Danny, we’re not--” She stopped. “You and I—we’re an entire continent apart.”

“And I’ve told you that doesn’t have to be a factor. I can come home right now if you want me to. I have the time to take.”

“I don’t want you seeing me like this,” she said, her voice low. “I’m a wreck, Danny.”

“I doubt that’s the case.”

“Have you been listening to me? I’m still having nightmares. I feel panicked whenever I get in the car to go anywhere outside my newly bullet-proofed home. I look like someone took a carving knife to my shoulder--” That one wasn’t quite true, but she had been shocked and upset by the angry red scars and cratering marring her skin. “If you saw me like this, you’d be on the next plane back to London.”

“I think we both know I’m a better person than that.”

“You are. Of course you are. But please don’t come. Not yet. I want to be whole and well when you see me again. Wait until your time at the Daily Mail is up before you come home. You’ve only got a few more months, right?”

“You don’t know how much I want to see you,” he said, his voice low and intense. “How much I want to have you in my arms.”

It always got her, hearing that desire in his voice. It kindled the desire in her, desire that had always been there from the moment she saw him in her press room. It was safe to indulge in now that they weren’t working in the same place with the same insider crowd who would doubtless use their relationship for gossip and political fodder. And she could admit to herself just how _much_ she wanted him when she didn’t have to do it face to face. It wasn’t exactly fair to either of them, she knew that. If she agreed to it, Danny would have her in his arms and in his bed. Rather than face that and all the complications that would come with that, it was easier to have this, desire dialed back to a level they could handle over the phone.

Danny teased her gently about the idea of phone sex, and she had considered it … considered it hard actually, wondering what it would be like to share that with him. Ultimately, it seemed too intimate, maybe even more intimate, somehow, than traditional lovemaking. Imagining his whispers, his gasps, his groans of desire in her ear as she pleasured herself and he did the same … it was too much to handle. Better to keep it here, at a level they both got a charge out of, Danny murmuring tender, sweet confidences in her ear, she accepting them with gratitude and warmth, but with no promises of more … at least for now. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CJ goes back to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Sexual hijinks ahead. ;)

**Part 7:**

Despite strenuous protests from virtually everyone—the President, the First Lady, Leo, and, of course, Toby—CJ went back to work two weeks after being released from the hospital.

The night before she was due back at the White House, CJ stood inside her walk-in closet, surveying her wardrobe.

“CJ, where’s the iron—” Toby stepped into the room and noted her frown. “Problem?”

“I don’t know what to wear tomorrow.”

“You’re not lacking for choices.” He stood next to her, surveying the row of slacks, skirts, blouses, and dresses. “What’s wrong with what’s in your closet?”

“Nothing’s WRONG with it, per se, it’s just …” CJ shook her head. “What does one wear on her first day back to work after being shot?”

“Something that will let you easily slip this on and off.” He pointed to the sling she had been wearing to support her shoulder. They’d been fighting over it for a day and a half, ever since her most recent appointment with her doctor.

“I’m not wearing the sling. Dr. Walker cleared me.”

“He said you didn’t have to wear it _full time_ ; that’s not the same thing as being completely rid of it!”

“There is no way I’m wearing that damn thing when I get up in front of those cameras tomorrow, Toby. That will not happen.”

“CJ …”

“I’ll look weak and injured. You can forget it.”

“It hasn’t even been three full weeks since the shooting! You’re lucky he cleared you to go back to work!”

“I’m not wearing the sling. I’ll take it with me just to make you happy, but I’m not wearing it in front of the cameras or anyone in the press.”

CJ started to reach up with her right arm, stopped when it twinged, then made a concerted effort to extend it all the way so she could pick up the emerald green blouse. “What about this? With black slacks and heels?”

“Perfect. I love that one.” He touched her shoulder lightly. “How does it feel?”

“Tight. Sore. Like …” she grasped for words. “Like a rubber band that’s been stretched too tight.”

“Need an ice wrap?”

“Mmm.” CJ considered. “No, I think I’m okay.”

“Heat?”

“No.” She used just the tips of her fingers to massage the fascia at the top of her shoulder near the recently healed entry wound. “My therapist said I need to work on moving and stretching it. I keep getting pins and needles down my arm.”

“Want a little help? I’ll be gentle.”

While she’d gotten less self-conscious about letting him see and touch her injured shoulder, she still had moments when she found herself hyperaware of how awful it must look. “You don’t have to, Toby.”

“I want to.” He waited until he had her permission before lightly touching the damaged tissue. He rubbed slow, small circles, using the barest hint of pressure, alternating between working on her shoulder and trying to tease all the tension out of the back of her neck.

She exhaled what felt like the first deep breath she’d taken in weeks. “Thank you. I guess I’m more anxious about tomorrow than I’d care to admit.”

“I’ve got a couple of other tricks that might help you relax,” he suggested. “If you’re interested.”

“Oh?” She turned and arched an eyebrow at him. “And what might those be?”

He leaned in close and murmured, “We’d need to be in bed for those.”

She stopped and considered that proposition, _really_ considered it, thinking about all the times over the years of their friendship when they’d flirted and teased and hinted at wanting more. There hadn’t been as much of that flirtation recently; certainly nothing as drawn out as the conversation they’d had the night she came home from the hospital. He was back at work full time, which meant he was generally tired when he came to visit in the evenings and therefore not in the mood for hefty conversations. As for her, she always felt a certain low-level tiredness which made it hard to concentrate on much more than getting through the day. Occasionally though, she caught him watching her with eyes that were hot with desire, and that made a spark rise in her as well.

That whisper— “we’d need to be in bed”—caused a flare of heat in her belly. Was tonight the night they finally gave in to it, to see if there was something more than flirtation under the surface?

The calm, rational voice in her head said, quite reasonably, that this was not the night to see if there was more; it was the night to go right to sleep so that she’d be well rested.

The voice that was screaming to have Toby’s warmth, his body, his hands, and his scent entwined with hers throttled that calm and rational voice into submission.

She gave Toby a small, provocative smile and agreed, “All right. Help me relax.”

***

Sharing a bed was, at this point, second nature. Mostly they slept on their own sides, except on nights when she had intense nightmares; then they’d switch places so she could sleep cuddled against him, her back to his chest, his arm around her waist. It was easy to convince herself that tonight was just like any other night when they slid beneath cool sheets together.

“Hi,” she murmured, completely unclear as to why she was suddenly feeling so unaccountably nervous.

“Hi.” He leaned over and kissed her gently. “We don’t have to go any further than this tonight if it’s not what you want.”

“Do I look that anxious?”

“You look ready to bolt. That’s not generally a reaction I want from the women I sleep with.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what brought that on.”

“Well, my skills _are_ formidable…”

CJ giggled and that eased the tension. “Formidable?”

“Legendary, even.”

She giggled harder.

“Songs and stories have been written about my sexual prowess …”

That got a full-on laugh.

“A musical number or two...”

CJ buried her face in his chest and cracked up. He ran his fingers into her hair and tipped her head back just enough that he could press a kiss to her lips. Once they were at that very familiar starting point, CJ’s nervousness fell away, and she was lost in the heat and pressure of his mouth. He kissed her as if he’d always wanted to, as if there had never been a moment when he wasn’t thinking about what it would be like to kiss her, to tease her, to caress her, to take her. He groaned against her mouth and his hand tightened in her hair.

“Claudia … god, I want you.”

“I want you, too,” she murmured, pressing a kiss along the line of his throat. “Do what you promised that first night we got home from the hospital.”

“What did I promise you?” He nipped the side of her neck. “Whatever it is, I’ll do it.”

“You said you’d keep me up all night.”

“Baby, I will rock you till the daylight comes.”

He kissed her again, then shifted onto his side, cradling her next to him. One hand cupped her bad shoulder; the other stole across her stomach, then down to slip under the waistband of her silk panties. His fingers brushed her, then cupped her, and his fingers slid inside her warmth while his thumb pressed on her clit. She gasped, immediately and enormously aroused. He felt her getting wetter and slid his fingers deeper in, stretching her. She arched her back and moaned.

“God, Toby!”

“There it is.” He began stroking her, establishing a rhythm and speed but without giving her the extra push over the edge that she needed to orgasm. “That’s where all that heat and passion lives.” He stretched her with his fingers before adding another… soon there were three inside her and his thumb working her clit. “Give that all to me, sweetheart. Let me have it.”

She was breathing hard, struggling to push upward with her hips to get the climax she wanted. “Toby, PLEASE.”

He kissed her passionately, biting her lower lip just hard enough to turn her on but not enough to break the skin. “Come for me. Let me feel it.”

She opened her legs wider for him. He thought about how much he’d love to drink from that well between her legs, but he’d save it for later, when he was ready for her to climax again.

He sped up the pace of his fingers, felt her shudder, knew she was close but couldn’t quite get to that plateau. “I can’t--” she gasped out. “Toby--”

“You can.” He kept teasing and caressing, varying his rhythm, feeling her hips flex under his hands. “I know you want to come for me, Claudia.”

“Yes,” she gave a soft little moan of frustration. “I want to, I need to.”

He pressed a kiss on her temple and whispered in her ear, “Pretend I’m him.”

Her soft moans gave way to a deeper groan. She arched her back, her fingers digging into the hard muscles in his shoulder. He rocked her through the force of the climax until she was panting in his arms.

“God. Jesus. Oh.” CJ relaxed onto the mattress. There was a feverish light in her eyes, a sheen of sweat on her forehead. Toby smoothed it away and kissed her gently. 

“Do you feel alright? How’s your shoulder?”

“I have no idea.” She laughed out the breath she was still getting back. “I can barely feel my body.”

He grinned, rather pleased with himself. Seeing her intense pleasure in his ministrations was reward enough in and of itself.

But then she was rolling toward him on her good side, her eyes bright and mischievous, and she was taking his cock in her mouth and in her good hand, and then he was unable to feel anything but her hot, wicked mouth on him.

“CJ … sweet Jesus.” He plunged his hands into her hair and groaned as she worked him with her tongue. “Oh, baby.”

She couldn’t talk dirty to him during, but that didn’t make the experience any less intense. He was careful, even amidst his excitement, not to jerk his hips as she was sucking him off, though the sensations she was engendering in him made that incredibly difficult. He groaned, tightened his fingers in her hair, squeezed the back of her neck, gave himself over to it.

He came just as hard as she had, gasping out her name, his hands fisted in the bed sheets. It was an intense, nearly out of body experience. He was up on cloud nine, hell, cloud ten or eleven or twenty-five, if there were such places, basking in the heat and skill of her mouth and hands.

“Hello in there,” she murmured, settling onto his chest. “Earth to Toby.”

He smoothed her hair back from her hot forehead. “I’m here.”

“You were long gone for a few minutes.” She ran her fingers up into his hair. “Are you with me again?”

“I’m with you.” He tugged at her gently until she was close enough for him to wrap her up in a passionate kiss. “You’ve got my undivided attention.”

“I still want you,” CJ murmured against his lips. “I want you inside me.”

“I want to be inside you,” he replied, stroking her hair. “But we’ve got one hell of a day ahead and you need to rest. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but don’t you think we should wait?”

CJ groaned in disappointment but nodded. “Well, if you want to be level-headed about it, yes, you’re probably right. I’m still really turned on though.”

“I can take care of that.” He slid his fingers inside her again, dragging a moan out of her as he picked up that same slow and teasing rhythm. He worked her up until she was practically writhing, then changed the pressure and speed of his strokes until he brought her to a shattering climax in his arms.

While she was still getting her breath back, he bent to the heat of her sex to lap at her with his tongue. She came again almost immediately with a hoarse cry, shaking and panting, her fingers twisted up in the sheets.

“Can you come again, baby?” He pressed a kiss low on her belly. “Can you give me one more?”

“God, no, I couldn’t survive it!” She wiped her face with the corner of the sheet, still trembling. “You’re going to wear me out.”

“That was the idea, wasn’t it? To help you relax?”

“Mmm.” She stretched, wincing a bit as her shoulder protested the movement. “I’m definitely relaxed.”

“Then my work here is done.” He kissed her again. “For now.”

CJ turned on her left side and Toby moved up behind her, draped an arm around her waist. He laid his lips on the back of her neck. “Sleep well, sweetheart.”

She was already slipping into sleep, so his only answer was a drowsy murmur. He followed soon after, his hand resting on her hip. 

***

“I’m FINE,” she repeated to Toby for what felt like the hundredth time that morning as he helped her with the buckle on her seat belt. “Seriously, you’re making me feel like an invalid.”

“You’re going back way too soon.”

“That’s your opinion.”

“Well, it’s a lot better than yours.”

“Fortunately, your opinion of my health and well-being cannot keep me out of the press room. My doctor said I’m fine to go back, and that’s good enough for me.”

“You need another day or two at least.”

“What precisely is that going to accomplish?” she asked. “I’m sleeping. I’m eating. I’ve started PT. I have to go back to work at some point, Toby… another few days one way or another isn’t going to make a difference.”

“I’m just … worried.”

“I know.” She slid her good hand onto his knee and squeezed. “And if we’re being honest, I am too. But I can’t live my life in fear of gun-toting madmen, okay? That’s no kind of life. I have to get back to it—we both do. You need to be able to live and work without having to constantly check on me.”

“And what if I like checking on you?” he teased mildly. “What if I get a charge out of knowing you need me?”

CJ relaxed into their normal flirtation. “I don’t recall saying I needed you,” she teased back. “Where did you get that idea?”

He leaned in close enough for only her to hear and murmured, “After last night, I think we both know exactly how much you need me.”

CJ couldn’t keep a smile from playing on her lips at that. “I guess we do.”

“Ready to go, Ms. Cregg? Mr. Zeigler?” It was Bobby who was driving the car this morning—Julianne was on duty in the lobby of her building.

“We’re all set,” CJ replied. “Thank you.”

She had grown to tolerate being driven around, though she would have much preferred to drive herself in her beloved Mustang. She’d asked Toby to take her for a ride in it two days before just to insure it was still being driven. The sense of overwhelming dread and fear that had come from being in a car had nearly dissipated, though she still found herself tensing up when they stopped for a long light. Overall, though, if the car kept moving, she felt safe and less like a target.

The ride felt like it took much longer than usual. Her stomach was jittery. It was just another normal day at work, CJ reminded herself. A day like any other. There was no reason to be nervous around her coworkers, her friends. She’d be well protected in the building. Everything she could possibly need or want was either at the White House or could be fetched easily enough. There was no need for panic or fear or stress. Everything was going to be fine.

The SUV turned in the gates and stopped at the guard shack. The guard peered in, noted CJ and Toby, and nodded, waving them in. Bobby pulled into the Ellipse and came around to open the door for CJ, steadying her with a hand on her elbow as she slid out of the car and adjusted her bag on her left arm.

“Thank you, Bobby.”

“Have a good day, ma’am.”

They rarely entered through the Ellipse, so the unfamiliar configuration of metal detectors and guard desks gave CJ a disorienting moment, but she quickly recovered and slid her bag onto the conveyor belt.

“Welcome back, Ms. Cregg,” the guard said, offering a smile.

“Thank you, Hank. It’s nice to be back.”

She had an uncertain moment when she wondered if the metal detector would go off as a result of the bullets in her shoulder. She hesitated at the lip of the machine. The guard seemed to understand her look of concern, so he explained helpfully, “It doesn’t even go off for the plates and screws in my leg. You don’t have to worry.”

“One less thing to worry about TSA flagging me for, right?” she asked, trying to make a joke of it.

“Yes, ma’am.” He waved her through, and she held her breath, waiting for the machine to beep, grateful when it didn’t. 

CJ gathered her bag, listening to Toby take off his wristwatch and dump his keys in the bowl, step through, and then efficiently sweep up his belongings again.

“Ready?”

“Let’s do it.” She shouldered her bag and headed toward the West Wing …only to be stopped moments later for what would be the first of many handshakes that day. Senator Larson came out of the hallway leading to the vice president’s office, trailed by Will, whose face lit up when he saw CJ.

“Ms. Cregg, so glad to see you back at work,” the Senator said, reaching out with his right hand. CJ extended her own hand, hoping her shoulder wouldn’t twinge, and took it. The senator realized his mistake and ended the handshake as soon as he gracefully could. “Forgive me … you’ve got so much pep in your step I forgot you were injured. How are you doing?”

CJ gave him a bright smile. “As you said, I’ve got pep in my step. It’s nice to be back.” She vaguely recalled his name on the massive list of people who sent her flowers, so she added, “And thank you so much for the flowers. I appreciate the gesture.”

Lawson nodded, clearly pleased. “You’re more than welcome. You let me know if there’s anything I can do to help you out.”

“Thank you, Senator. Take care.”

Will held up his hand in a “wait a second” gesture, walked the senator to the guard station, then came back toward them, grinning. He pulled CJ into a hug with no hesitation, though he was careful to keep his hold gentle.

“Damn, it’s good to see you! How are you feeling?”

“Glad to be back.”

“This place hasn’t been the same without you.”

“I bring joy to so many people, don’t I?” she cracked, starting down the hall toward her office.

“You joke, but today’s looking better already. We can finally start getting back to normal around here.”

“Anything pressing I need to be aware of?”

“Not now. I was about to prep for the 9am briefing.”

“ _You_ were going to prep for _my_ briefing?” She peered oddly at him.

“I thought you’d want me to take the briefing today … give you time to settle back in.”

CJ shook her head. “No need. I’ve got it.”

“Are you sure? I really don’t mind--”

“Thanks, Will.” CJ flashed him a smile. “But I’ve got it. I just need a few minutes with all my materials.”

She left Will and Toby at the four-way intersection of their offices … right took Will toward the vice president’s wing, left took Toby to his lair and CJ to hers. Debbie’s office and the Oval were straight ahead. Toby and Will both continued straight. Debbie waved them both right in without ever stopping her discussion with Charlie. Toby caught a few words and surmised, with some amusement, that they were arguing about hockey.

“Is she back?” the President asked, looking around for CJ. “Where’s my favorite press secretary? No offense, Will.”

“None taken, sir,” Will replied. “She’s in her office getting ready for the 9am briefing.”

“I thought you were doing the 9am briefing,” Leo said, frowning.

“CJ thought different and I don’t want to be the person who stands in her way on her first day back.”

The men all exchanged looks that said none of them would be that person today and got down to business, all of them clearly happier now that CJ was back in the building.

At 8:50, Toby quietly slipped out of the Oval and walked toward CJ’s office.

“—going to be late,” Carol was saying as he approached her desk.

“I have five minutes and I walk fast. Besides, it’s not like they can start without me.” CJ gave him a quick, abstracted smile. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Any last minute notes?” she asked, brushing past him and heading down the hallway.

“Nope.” He fell into step beside her. “Are you ready?”

“Of course, I’m ready. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“It’s your first day back--”

“Stop it,” she said firmly. “Or I’m going to banish you from the press room for good. I’m not going off to war—I’m talking to a room full of reporters. This is easy for me. I can do it without breaking a sweat. So, stop treating me as if it’s a massive and arduous undertaking. Got it?”

“They’re going to ask about the shooting.”

“And I’m going to say no comment and move on.” CJ stopped in front of the closed doors to the press room. The din of the reporters inside was audible even in the hallway. She adjusted her jacket, straightened her shoulders. Her lips tightened when her shoulder twinged, then fell into the wry half-smile that was her default expression when dealing with the press. “Here we go.”

She pushed open the door and walked inside, back straight, head high. Toby followed her and staked out a spot near the doors and behind the camera mounts.

The room erupted when CJ strode to the podium. Every reporter and photographer got up on their feet, applauding and whistling.

She stood there a moment, waiting for the applause to die, then said with a smirk, “Reports of my demise have been greatly exaggerated.”

The room exploded in more laughter and applause, which she finally had to wave to a stop.

“Thank you all. I’m so glad to be back with you.”

“We missed you, CJ!” someone yelled.

“No, we didn’t!” someone else yelled back good-naturedly.

CJ laughed. “I heard that, Joel! You’re on my naughty list.” She sobered. “So many of you all took the time to send cards and flowers. I can’t thank you enough for your kind words. I truly appreciate it. Doubtless you’ll have a lot of questions for me regarding what happened outside the Torrington Hotel two weeks ago. As that is still an ongoing investigation conducted by the Secret Service and the FBI, I cannot answer any questions relating to it at this time. So, I’ll save you all the time now and issue a blanket ‘no comment’ regarding any questions relating to the shooting. When I can share information, I will do so. What I can speak to today are questions regarding the President’s upcoming participation in the G7 Summit, the budget package, and the new healthcare initiative that the First Lady unveiled yesterday. Now … who’s got a question for me?”

Toby watched her take question after question, marveling as always at the way she was able to skillfully juggle the reporters. No one could ever accuse him of being good with people, so he had no idea how she managed to deftly balance out seriousness with humor or how she managed to engender goodwill in someone she was flat-out refusing to answer, but she did. She had the room firmly in her pocket from the moment she walked in.

Will slipped inside from the hallway about 15 minutes into the briefing and watched CJ with frank amazement.

“It’s like watching a snake charmer.”

Toby gave an inelegant snort of laughter at that.

“They nearly ate me alive every day I was in here. You’d never know it from watching them interact with her. She’s really something.”

Toby nodded. “Yes, she is.”

***

The morning briefing ran for nearly an hour, much longer than anyone had anticipated. Finally, on the pretext of needing to get to another meeting, CJ called an end to it, promising more discussion at a 3pm briefing. She left the podium, ignoring the questions that were still being called after her, and ended up caught in the crush of reporters who were trying to get out into the hallway all at once. Toby saw her jaw clench when someone jostled her bad shoulder; he pushed through the crowd to catch hold of her arm and lead her down the back hallway toward their offices.

“Now do you see why there was a shrine outside the White House?”

CJ rolled her eyes. “Please.”

“They love you.”

“They put up with me.”

“You handle them amazingly well. Will compared you to a snake charmer.”

CJ laughed. “Did it ever occur to either of you that the problem among you, Will, and the reporters is, well, you and Will?”

They arrived back at her office to a grinning Carol. “Nice job, boss.”

“Thank you. Is there coffee?”

“There can be.”

“I need coffee. I’m getting a headache.” She shot Toby a warning look. “No fretting. I’m fine.”

“I wasn’t going to say a word.” He had been but thought better of it.

“I’m going to work in here awhile. I’ll see you later.”

He knew a dismissal when he heard one; he was pretty sure it was because her shoulder was hurting, and she wanted to be alone to deal with it. “I’ll come by at lunch time.”

“Please do.” She gave him a smile, but it was strained. “Close the door, would you?”

As he glanced behind him to pull the door securely shut, he saw her sink into her chair, bracing her shoulder with her good hand, and draw in several ragged, pain-tightened breaths. He had the good sense to leave, but he felt tightness in his own chest as he drew the door all the way shut behind him.

***

She reluctantly slipped her arm back into her sling and adjusted it. Her cell phone rang. It was Danny.

“Hi,” she said, trying to keep her voice from hitching when she jarred her shoulder.

“You knocked it out of the ballpark,” he said cheerfully. “Great job out there.”

“You watched?”

“Of course I watched! I had to see your triumphant return.”

“Good lord.” CJ rolled her eyes.

“You were amazing.”

“I didn’t look anxious?”

“You looked poised and confident.” His voice dropped to a whisper, since he was still at work in London … it was 3pm there. “And gorgeous. That emerald is stunning on you.”

“Stop.”

“I can’t compliment the woman I’m madly in lust with?”

“You can. But it can’t go any further than this today. I’ve got to get back to work.”

“As do I. I just wanted to call and say you were wonderful.”

She blushed. “Thank you.”

“Say hey to Carol for me. I miss you most, but Carol’s a close second.”

CJ grinned. “I’ll pass along the message.”

“Can I call you later? See how your day went?”

“I have PT later. I’m probably going to be exhausted. But you’re welcome to try.”

“I will. Talk soon.”

“Bye, Danny.” She started the first part of their now customary closing to their conversations.

“Bye, sweetheart,” he finished. She could hear the smile in his voice as he hung up.

There was a soft knock on the door that she recognized as Carol’s. “Come in.”

“Fresh coffee from the Mess,” Carol said, setting down the cup on her desk. She noted the sling on CJ’s arm but didn’t say anything.

“Thanks, Carol. Danny says hi, by the way.”

“Aw, did I miss him?” Carol’s shoulders slumped. She adored Danny.

“He just called to say that he thought the press conference went well.”

“It did!” Carol looked cheerful again. “Katie and Steve came by a few minutes ago, but I thought you might want to be alone, so I told them to come back by later.”

“I’ve got a lot to catch up on. No visitors until this afternoon, please, unless it’s Leo, Toby, or Josh.”

“Not a problem.” She eyed CJ’s sling. “I have some Advil in my desk. I’ll leave it in here in case you need it.”

The reality was that she’d probably need a lot of it … it was her first day without prescription painkillers or muscle relaxers of any kind, including the relatively tame Tylenol 3. She could have used some after that hour on her feet but decided out of sheer stubbornness to wait a bit longer before taking anything.

She couldn’t bring herself to look at Carol—she didn’t want to see pity in her eyes.

“Sounds good, thank you. No visitors, okay.”

“You got it.” Carol ducked out of the room, rummaged through her desk, brought back in the Advil bottle with the top pre-loosened, and sat it on the edge of CJ’s desk within easy reach before pulling the door shut behind her. CJ took a deep breath, turned on her computer, and began reading her emails.

***

The President and First Lady set up an informal lunch in the Roosevelt Room to welcome CJ back. Everyone who worked in the West Wing in any capacity stopped by to pick up some food and offer CJ warm wishes. She hated the attention but smiled and spoke to everyone while picking at a plate of food.

“Are you sick to death of everyone asking if you feel okay?” the First Lady asked, sliding into a chair beside CJ.

“Yes, ma’am,” she replied.

“I won’t ask it then. Though you’d probably convince more people if you actually ate instead of just pretending to.”

CJ sighed and popped a grape into her mouth while pointedly staring at Abby, who laughed.

“I wish we’d been able to come to the hospital,” she said. “Ron wouldn’t hear of it, though, not while the gunman was still walking free.”

“There’s no evidence he was aiming for the President,” CJ said. “It was me he was after … well, according to Ron anyway.”

“Which I cannot for the life of me understand.”

“Neither can I.”

The women lapsed into silence.

“Toby’s been taking good care of you?” Abby asked.

“He’s been my rock.”

“He adores you.”

“I think adores is WAY too strong a word,” CJ said.

“I don’t think it’s strong enough.” Abby laid her hand over CJ’s. “Don’t let him go.”

“Toby and I aren’t--” She stopped to consider the physical intimacy of the previous night, the way his tenderness and passion shook her to the core. Clearly, they _are_ something. “It’s complicated.”

“It’s complex,” Abby corrected, “which isn’t always a bad thing. It can make for a very intriguing relationship.”

“Neither of us is very good at relationships.”

“It gets easier when you’re with the right person.”

“And you think Toby’s my person?”

“My dear, I am certain of it. He can’t keep his eyes off you.”

“He’s over-protective.”

“He’s enamored.”

“We’d drive each other crazy.”

“You think Jed and I don’t make each other completely insane some of the time? We don’t always get along …you’ve seen that first-hand … but we always remember that we love each other at the end of the day.” Abby gave CJ a side-long glance. “Look, I’m not going to try to talk you into a relationship with Toby if you’re determined not to have one. But I’ve seen the way you two look at each other, usually when you think the other isn’t looking. He’d move the Earth for you if you asked.”

CJ couldn’t help smiling as she recalled the previous night; she finally admitted, very low, “He did. Last night. Several times.”

A grin split Abby’s face. “Did he now? Do tell.”

CJ blushed. “Not here and not now.”

Abby looked dangerously close to pouting. “You can’t just leave it like that. Give me something.”

“It was amazing.”

“Scale of 1-10.”

“9 … and 1/2.”

Abby arched her eyebrows at that. “Really?”

“Really.”

The First Lady looked delighted. “So, all of that arguing you just did with me was, what, for show?”

CJ shrugged, feeling self-conscious. “I don’t know what we are, exactly. I just know we’re…”

“Orgasm buddies?” Abby suggested, and CJ nearly choked on her water.

“Abby!”

“What else do you want to call it?”

CJ searched for a word. “Lovers.”

“The operative word there being ‘love.’”

CJ rolled her eyes. “You’re infuriating.”

“No doubt. But I also just made my point.” She found Toby across the room and noted that even while in conversation with Leo, his eyes strayed to CJ. “I’m serious, CJ … don’t let him go.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CJ and Toby sleep together ... but what happens when Danny shows up at the door?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: More sexual hijinks ahead.

**Part 8:**

The gym in the Residence had been set aside for CJ to use three times a week for PT. She hated it—the exercises were excruciating and exhausting, whether they were weight bearing or stretching. Abby Bartlet took an exorbitant amount of glee in monitoring her sessions and made sure to pop in at least once, sometimes staying for the whole thing, other times just sticking her head in to say hello. She had stayed for most of that day’s session, CJ’s fourth since going back to work. 

“This is AWFUL,” CJ muttered through clenched teeth as she began a second round of extensions with the weight machine’s pulley. “This is the literal worst.”

“There are worse things in life than physical therapy,” Abby said brightly. “Do you want me to list them for you?”

“No … ma’am …” CJ ground out, fighting the pull of the weight. “I think I can use my imagination.”

“Nonsense, it’ll be fun. Let’s see … worse things than physical therapy.” The First Lady paused theatrically. “Being from Ohio.”

That got a grin out of CJ, which slid off her face when she watched Abby change the pin on the weight block to add another five pounds. “Please don’t do this to me.”

“You’re doing great. Two more sets of ten and you can call it a day.”

“Did I mention that this is awful?”

“You did.”

“Is it going to get any easier?”

“It will if you keep working at it. Come on, you’ve got two sets left.”

Toby came into the exercise room while she was halfway through the first of her two sets.

“Almost done?”

“No…” CJ gritted out. “I’ll be doing this forever.”

“15 more,” Abby replied. “She’s doing great.”

“No,” CJ objected. “I’m not.”

“Hush, you,” Abby scolded before turning back to Toby. “She’s using those weights like a champ.”

“Is there anything she should be doing at home?”

“Working with the resistance band whenever possible. She needs to keep icing it, of course. And I’m sure her physical therapist will want to start thinking about some massage therapy to keep the muscles pliable between sessions. It’s good for pain management too.”

“Hey, ‘she’ is standing right here,” CJ objected. “Don’t talk about me in the third person when I’m literally in front of you.”

“Sorry, CJ,” Abby apologized half-heartedly.

“You’re not sorry, though. You’re perfectly happy to violate doctor-patient confidentiality--”

“Which does not apply because I’m not your doctor … I’m your extremely knowledgeable friend. How many do you have left?”

“Ten.”

“Get to it,” Abby said cheerfully.

CJ groaned and resumed her exercises, though she moved much slower on the final set than she had been. Finally, with what felt like colossal effort, she finished the set and sank down on the padded bench. “There. I’m done. Someone get me a margarita.”

“Well done.” Abby put a hand under CJ’s elbow and guided her to the therapy table. “Let me get you some ice.” She stepped over to the cooler and lifted out an ice wrap which she expertly wrapped around CJ’s shoulder. “You did a phenomenal job. Sorry to be so damn pushy.”

“I probably need you to be pushy with me,” CJ conceded. “It might make this go a bit faster.”

“Don’t be impatient,” Abby chided gently. “PT can be one step forward, two steps back sometimes.” She took CJ’s pulse. “How are you feeling? Pretty good?”

“I’m going to be sore tomorrow.”

“Oh, no doubt. Take a hot bath when you get home to stave it off. See if you can find a handsome man to rub your shoulders.” She shot a wink at Toby.

“Thank you, Abby.”

“You’re more than welcome. Remember to stretch. Use your ice wrap before bed. Take a Tramadol only if you need it. Your doctor wants you off those pain pills… and so do I, for that matter.”

“Understood.” CJ stood, waited a moment to make sure she was steady, then began gathering her belongings. “Has anything cropped up that I need to tend to?” she asked Toby.

“Not a thing. Will’s going to cover the final briefing of the night.”

“If you need to stay, you should stay. My agents can take me home.”

“Absolutely not.” He picked up his briefcase from its resting place near the door, shrugged into his overcoat, then held hers up. “Let’s go.”

***

In the weeks since the shooting their entire lives had changed; some changes were necessary, and others were just convenient. They were both still trying to figure out how to put the pieces of lives torn apart by violence back into normal, livable order … some days they were more successful at it than others.

Toby stayed at her place several nights a week, generally on the nights when she had PT at the end of the day and was either too tired or too sore (or both) to want to do more than hobble through her door, take a pain pill, and fall asleep. On those nights he made dinner for them both, helped her with the resistance band stretches her therapist recommended for extending her range of motion, and made sure she used either an ice or a heat wrap before bed. He stayed in her guest room, although it seemed silly at this point …he often ended the night in her bed, soothing her back to sleep after a nightmare, which didn’t seem to be occurring any less often.

And though they did share a bed and had twice more indulged in “relaxation” before bed, they hadn’t yet made love. It was tacitly understood that it would happen when they were both in the right frame of mind for it; the stress of returning to work and all of the physical therapy and follow-up medical appointments since hadn’t left her feeling anything but tired and a bit fragile. For Toby’s part, he was more than willing to be patient. He wanted her, yes, but he’d spend most of the last decade wanting CJ … patience was something he had cultivated and was willing to continue exercising if it would pay off in the long run. 

“Stir fry for dinner?” he asked, opening the car door for her. “I’ll bet you’re starved.”

“That sounds really good.” The agent stationed in the lobby of her building opened the door at her approach. “Thank you, Kevin.”

“You’re welcome, ma’am.”

“You guys need anything?” Toby asked the agents. He’d started including them in coffee and meal runs, even though he didn’t have to … and probably wasn’t supposed to.

“No, thank you, sir,” Kevin replied, as always, but with a slight half smile that let him know the gesture was not unnoticed or unappreciated. Toby sympathized … guarding the press secretary’s condo had to be a bit of a drag, considering that they might be on the presidential or vice presidential or First Family details otherwise. “Will you need an escort anywhere?”

“We’re in for the night,” CJ said. “But thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Ms. Cregg, Mr. Ziegler. Have a good night."

“They’ve got to be SO bored,” CJ groaned, slipping out of her coat. “It’s ridiculous having a detail on me.”

“We can go ten rounds on the necessity of that, but I’d really rather eat something.”

He hung both their coats in the closet and set his briefcase down in the living room, where he’d eventually get to the briefing books tucked inside. “Why don’t you go grab a hot shower before you stiffen up. I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.”

He froze when, instead of turning and heading into the bedroom, she instead snaked her good arm around his waist, pulled him tight against her, and kissed him the way he loved—fast, hot, frenzied, and intense.

It took him a good five seconds to respond, but then he slid a hand up into her hair and the other to the small of her back and let himself get lost inside the warmth and pressure of her mouth.

“Christ, CJ,” he groaned when they came up for air. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

“I’ve got a pretty good idea,” she murmured, pressing her hips up against his, her mouth playing against his earlobe. “And I want to see what you can do to me.”

“You’re making it hard for me to be a gentleman right now.” That was an understatement. He wanted to grab her, pin her against the wall, and ravish her right there. “Claudia, I want to be so deep inside you.”

“I want you inside me. And I don’t want you to be a gentleman.” She nipped at his bottom lip and his blood screamed in response.

“But I want to be.” He groaned again and tried to stop his hands, even as they scrabbled for her hips. “Baby, I want to be slow and tender with you and I can’t do that if I want to devour you instead.”

“Do it,” she insisted. “Devour me. Please.”

“Not the first time. No.” He brought his hand up to her hair and combed his shaking fingers through it. “Our first time together I want to make love to you the way I’ve pictured it for the last ten years. And that’s not hard and fast in your hallway. It’s you and me tangled up in the sheets; I’m moving inside you and making you moan and gasp and scream out my name.”

She captured his lips in a slow kiss that was rich with promise. “All right then,” she whispered. “We’ll do that.”

He stroked her hair with an unsteady hand, a little amazed that all of that had tumbled out of him. “We will?”

“Sounds amazing.” She laid her forehead against his shoulder and took a deep, shuddering breath. 

“Are you--”

“I’m sure. One hundred percent.” She lifted her head and met his eyes. Her gaze was clear and direct. “Let me get cleaned up. Then we can decide whether or not we’re having dinner … or whether we’re getting right to dessert.” She stepped back from him, leaving him feeling unsteady.

“Sure … that’s … that sounds good,” he managed.

“Okay. I’ll just be a few minutes.”

“Sure.” Hopefully that would be time enough for his blood to return to his head where it belonged. “And I’ll just … I’ll be here.”

CJ grinned and headed down the hallway. He heard the water in the master bath turn on and tried his damnedest not to picture her in the shower … he needed to be clearheaded enough to think.

He headed back to the guest bedroom and bathroom that had become his since he’d started staying over. He’d begun leaving things here … a spare phone charger, a toothbrush and mouthwash, a razor, sweatpants and a City College t-shirt to sleep in. His go-bag still had a change of clothes in it, both dress clothes and casual ones. He changed out his suit for a pair of jeans, swapped his white dress shirt for a blue button down, and took a few minutes to freshen up himself.

Returning to the kitchen he decided to do as much meal prep as he reasonably could so that all he had to do was throw the ingredients in a wok. He got the feeling dinner was going to be a secondary concern.

The water shut off. He heard her blow dryer go on, then off again a few minutes later. He’d let her primp … they both needed the time to settle in to the knowledge that what they had started discussing weeks ago was going to happen, that the intense emotions that came with being in and out of each other’s lives in so constant and intimate a way were finally going to culminate in what they’d both wanted. It was overwhelming (and a little frightening) to consider. Neither of them was the type of person to take someone to bed on a whim. Choosing a romantic partner had always been about more than satisfying physical urges; there had to be an emotional connection there as well. If the past weeks have proven anything, it was that the emotional connection, while always present, was deeper and stronger than either of them had previously thought.

He heard her footsteps in the hallway and found himself tensing up in anticipation and with nerves. Why should he be nervous? He knew CJ, knew her intimately, knew how to make her gasp and moan and sigh and shake.

_This is different_ , he thought.

For all that he and CJ often joked about their brand of stress relief, they have never been the sort of people who used sex for that reason. They knew plenty of people who did… people who jumped from partner to partner or engaged in very public affairs. That wasn’t them and never had been. Sex was, if not sacred, then something they only shared with serious partners, rather than something traded around as a party favor. Making love to CJ would be the start of something serious.

“Hi,” she said, leaning against the counter to watch him work.

“Hey.” She smelled amazing, like honeysuckle and ginger … she’d taken the time to put on the body lotion that he liked.

“Anything I can do?”

He considered the list of things she could do that wouldn’t aggravate her arm after so much PT and finally said, “You can chop some carrots.”

“I can do that,” she affirmed.

He stepped aside and let her at the cutting board and the knife. “How’s your shoulder feeling?”

“Sore. But isn’t it always?”

“You worked hard today.” He laid his hands on her shoulder and massaged very lightly, using just the tips of his fingers over the area where the gunshot scar marred her skin. She tensed involuntarily, but relaxed moments later when it became clear it wasn’t going to hurt. “It’ll get easier.”

“It can’t get any harder.” She put the knife and cut carrots aside and tossed him a smirk over her shoulder. “That’s what she said.”

Toby laughed. “Is it?” He was in a perfect position to kiss the back of her neck, so he did, once, then again, scraping with his teeth to make her shiver. “It could get harder. Trust me on that.”

CJ turned in his arms. Her eyes were hot with desire. “Let’s forget about dinner.” She pressed up against him and kissed him deeply, sweetly, moving her hips against his until he was immediately, achingly hard. “Let’s do this instead.”

They moved back to her bedroom and made short work of the clothing that was keeping them from being skin to skin. Though he’d seen her shoulder more times now than he could count, she still blushed and skirted her eyes away when he touched the discolored scar and the cavitation marks.

“It’s so ugly,” she murmured.

“I don’t care how it looks.” He kissed her shoulder tenderly. “You’re so damn beautiful nothing could take away from that.”

“I feel damaged.”

“You don’t have to be whole to be beautiful.”

They slid between sheets that immediately started to heat up from their mutual desire. He lay on top of her, cupping her bad shoulder as a reminder to himself to be gentle, no easy feat when he was so powerfully turned on by her.

“I can’t remember a time when I haven’t wanted you,” he murmured against her throat. “You’ve filled my thoughts from the moment I laid eyes on you.”

“You’re making me wish I was a better writer,” CJ laughed breathily. “I want you so much I don’t have words for it. It’s a feeling too big to describe. It eclipses everything else.” She kissed him with rising passion. “But if I can’t say it, I can show it.”

She opened for him and guided him to her, then arched up underneath him with a cry when he slid inside of her, a tight, hot fit that shocked them both with its intensity.

“Fuck, CJ! Christ!” He buried his face in her hair and breathed deeply, trying not to come right then and there. “Baby, that’s so good.”

“Oh, my god!” She dug her fingers into his back, tried but failed to suppress a moan. “Toby ….”

“We should have done this years ago.” He laid his forehead against hers. “We’re not wasting another minute. I want this with you every night.”

“Me too.” She gasped it out. “Oh, sweet Jesus, me too.”

He began thrusting inside her, slowly, steadily, wanting to make it last for them both. Her fingers flexed in the hard muscles in his back; his tangled in her hair, pulling her head back just enough that he could kiss along the line of her throat. It was deeper, more intense than he’d ever fantasized about … they moved together as if they’d done this a thousand times before. He couldn’t get enough of her. He quickened his pace.

CJ arched up under him, hard. “Toby, I’m close already …”

“Come for me.” He thrust faster. “Let me feel it, baby.”

“More …” she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulled him in deeper. “Just a little bit more… I’m almost there.”

“Do it for me, sweetheart.” He kissed her hotly, greedily, wanting more of her.

She tumbled into an orgasm … slammed into it with her whole body, shaking hard deep into her core. She cried out, clutching at him, panting out his name, which sent Toby right over the edge into his own release. He fisted his hands in the sheets and groaned as wave after wave of sensation battered him. He called CJ’s name, stuttered it over and over as he kept thrusting into her. He held her and rocked her as she shook through a long, rolling climax until she finally went limp underneath him, sweaty and sated and relaxed.

“Claudia.” He kissed her forehead. “Sweetheart.” He couldn’t finish, he was so overcome with the intensity of his own emotions. He eased onto his back, pulling her on top of him, still inside her. “That was unbelievable.” 

“I thought it might be good our first time together, but I didn’t count on it being mind-blowing.” She stroked his cheek. “God, Toby, no one has ever made me come like that.”

He slid his hands up and down her bare back. “I’ve never been so turned on by anyone. You revved me up to one hundred miles an hour from the moment I was inside you.”

“I still want you,” she murmured, grinding down on him with her hips. “I can’t believe it, but I think I could do that again. Do you think you can--”

“If you’re going to ride me then I _definitely_ can.”

They were off to the races again, and it was, if possible, even better the second time. They could go slower, could tease each other with sensation now that the mad urgency had worn off. They learned each other’s bodies, the places they loved to be kissed and touched, and drove each other to intense climaxes again and then, astoundingly for each of them, one more time.

“Jesus Christ.” CJ flopped back onto her pillow, panting after her fourth shattering climax. “I call uncle. I can’t handle any more. I’m going to be so sore tomorrow.”

Toby leaned over and kissed her tenderly. “It wasn’t fair of me to overdo it on a day when you’ve had PT, I’m sorry.” He laid his palm across her stomach. “Are you okay?”

She kissed him back, sweetly, warmly. “I’m fine …other than being starving. Think you can help me with that?”

“I can definitely help you with that.” He stroked her hair away from her flushed forehead. “I’ll get dinner ready while you shower.”

“Isn’t that where we started this evening?” she grinned.

“I’m glad we took a detour to get here.” He brushed his thumb over her lips before getting out of bed and pulling on his pants. “See you in a bit.”

“You could join me in the shower,” she suggested, arching an eyebrow.

“And then we’d use up the hot water and never have dinner. Rain check.”

He hummed while he threw together all the ingredients for stir fry into the wok and let it cook. He’d never been one to hum; whistle occasionally, but not hum. But the feeling of warmth and rightness that permeated him was enough to make him want to break out into song, for all that that would be completely unprecedented and utterly ridiculous.

Andi had never made him feel this way. No woman had ever made his blood hum so pleasantly or his brain buzz. It was the purest sense of homecoming he had ever felt. He belonged with this woman, with her fire and her strength and her stubbornness, her beautiful eyes and her battle scars and the arms that seemed made to fit around him.

The intercom buzzed. Toby leaned over and hit the button. “What’s up, guys?”

“Mr. Zeigler, there’s a visitor here for Ms. Cregg. We’ve cleared him. Should we send him up?” 

“Sure.”

It was probably Josh. He stopped by on occasion with a six pack or a bottle of wine if the day had been especially long or arduous.

The buzzer for the door sounded. Toby opened it, fully expecting to see Josh on the other side.

It was Danny Concannon, who looked just as surprised to see him. Both men stared at each other for a few seconds, clearly unsure why the other was there.

“Hey,” Toby managed. “You’re back.”

The normally self-assured reporter took in Toby’s disheveled hair, his casual dress, and quickly drew the right conclusions. “I didn’t realize … I’m sorry, I should have called first.”

Toby didn’t have an answer to that other than “yeah, you definitely should have,” but he certainly wasn’t going to say it.

“Come on in,” he said, stepping back from the door.

Danny looked ready to bolt. “No, I--” He dragged a hand through his hair. “This wasn’t what I--”

“Was that the door?” CJ came down the hallway in black exercise pants and a tank top, her hair braided back from her face. She’d put on lipstick and mascara but was otherwise make-up free. “Don’t tell me it was more flowers.”

She froze when she saw Danny. “Oh my god.” A grin split her face. “Danny, what are you DOING here?” She pulled him into a warm hug. “I talked to you yesterday and you didn’t tell me you were coming home!”

“I wanted to surprise you.” Danny took her face in his hands and studied her, as if to make sure she was present and accounted for. “I couldn’t stay over there any longer.” He got a good look at the scarring on her shoulder and his eyes widened. “CJ, my god!”

Her hand reflexively rose to cover it; she bit her lip, lowered her hand, and let Danny look at the damage. He started to touch her shoulder, then stopped himself. “May I?” At her nod, he touched the shiny, still angry red scars with just the tips of his fingers. “What did this?”

“A 9mm. It would have been a lot worse if it was a higher velocity bullet.”

“It still looks painful.”

“It is.”

Toby started to speak and realized the stir fry was starting to burn. He quickly went to the wok and began stirring vigorously, adding soy sauce, doing anything he could not to overhear their conversation. His heart felt like it had leapt somewhere up into his throat. They had only just broken down the final barriers between them. Was that all going to end tonight?

He glanced over his shoulder at them as he began setting the table. They were deep in conversation in the living room, Danny’s hands in hers. The reporter’s normally genial face now wore a decidedly downcast expression. CJ laid a hand on his cheek and said something that made Danny smile and bring her hand to his lips for a kiss. 

He badly wanted to know what was being said, but knew he’d get answers if he was just patient. So, he gave dinner a final stir and turned off the heat. He added another place at the table for Danny; he had clearly just come from the airport and had to be starving, and Toby wasn’t going to send him away simply because the timing was bad. Besides, it wasn’t his place to send Danny away. If anyone was going to make that decision it was CJ.

They could all use a drink, of that he was sure, so he rummaged in the fridge and pulled out bottles of a local microbrew that he and CJ had discovered they particularly liked.

“Dinner’s ready, CJ,” he said when they seemed to have reached a break in the conversation. “Danny, there’s enough here if you want to join us.”

Danny hesitated.

“Please stay, Danny,” CJ entreated.

“It _was_ a long flight from London,” Danny acknowledged. He slid off his coat and draped it over the back of a chair. “And two services of snack food and drinks don’t really take the edge off your hunger. Let me wash up.”

He disappeared down the hall. CJ turned to Toby with wide eyes. “I am SO sorry about this.”

“You couldn’t have known.” He paused. “You didn’t, did you?”

“Not a clue! He said he missed me and wanted to see me. It couldn’t wait. So, he took some time off from the paper and took the first flight back he could get.” Her cheeks flushed at that. “I can’t believe it!”

“You’ve always known he was devoted to you.” Toby tried to keep his voice even. “Here’s the proof.”

“No one’s ever--” She broke off, blushing again. “Toby, I don’t want you to think that this changes anything between us.”

He felt like a hand was squeezing his heart. “How could it not? The man flew all the way from London for you.”

“But that doesn’t mean--”

“Look, let’s just … let’s have dinner. Then we’ll talk. All of us.”

“I don’t want to lose you, Toby.”

Her face was so fraught with tension and fear that he couldn’t help leaning in to kiss her gently. “I don’t want to lose you either.” He stroked his thumb over the arch of her cheekbone. “We’ll work this out.”

Danny re-appeared, his hair wet at the temples. He looked tired. “It’s probably better if I head home. I’m interrupting your night.” He headed for his coat.

CJ laid a hand on his arm. “Stay, Danny, please. Have something to eat.”

Danny shot a glance at Toby, who nodded encouragingly. “You should stay. It’s better than going home to an empty fridge.”

Danny smiled, though it was strained. “You’re right about that.” To ease the tension, he picked up each bottle of beer and used the opener on the table to crack it open with a satisfying hiss of carbonation. “To CJ and her continued recovery.”

“Hear, hear.” Toby touched his bottle to Danny’s, then to CJ’s, then began to serve up the food.

Dinner was an odd affair, strained at some points, light-hearted at others. Danny filled them in on what it was like to live in London and regaled them with stories about some of the odd characters who worked with him at the Daily Mail. CJ brought him up to date on life at the White House and brought all three of them to hysterical laughter with a story about the hazing some of the senior reporters had inflicted on the newest, very arrogant cub reporter. When Toby asked Danny if he could explain cricket, it turned out that he could, so they spent the last half of the meal being treated to an explanation of cricket, complete with diagrams. By the time the meal was over, the tension had eased considerably.

“How long are you planning to stay, Danny?” CJ asked, rising and taking plates to the dishwasher. She shooed him away when he tried to take them from her. “I can handle the dishes, I’m not an invalid.”

“Has she been like this the whole time?” Danny asked Toby.

“Completely unwilling to accept help? What do you think?”

“I resent that remark,” CJ replied, loading the dishwasher using mainly her left hand.

Toby snorted. “No, you _resemble_ that remark.”

CJ finished loading the dishwasher and reached up into the cabinet for dishwasher fluid, wincing when her shoulder twinged. “Anyone need another drink?”

“Not a good idea for me, thanks,” Danny said. “I’m already feeling a little punch drunk from the time change.”

“I’ll take another,” Toby said. “But I’ll get it.” He rummaged in the fridge for beers for them both, then pulled an ice wrap out of the freezer and passed it to her. “You haven’t done this yet,” he reminded her. “Twenty minutes.”

“You’re as much of a nag as Abby Bartlet.” CJ wrapped her shoulder, then took her drink over to the living room sofa. “Come sit down, Danny.”

“What’s the First Lady been nagging you about?” Danny asked, settling on the opposite end of the sofa from CJ.

“Am I doing my PT? Am I doing my extension exercises? Am I using my ice wrap? How about my heat wrap? When was the last time I took the pain pills? When am I seeing a plastic surgeon? You get the idea.”

“What’s this about a plastic surgeon?”

CJ slipped off the ice wrap and turned toward him so he could look at her shoulder again. “See the cratering and the sunken areas around the scar? Those will look less noticeable if they’re injected with filler. It’s an easy enough procedure; I’m just not sure I want to do it.”

“Is it time sensitive?” When CJ shook her head, he said, “Then I wouldn’t worry about it. Concentrate on getting your range of motion back. You look like you’re moving fairly well.”

“Sometimes I am. It depends on the day. And the weather. And whether I had PT the day before.” She leaned her head back against the couch and sighed, a wave of exhaustion and pain hitting her all at once as it often did at the end of a long day. “Are my pills on the counter?” she asked Toby.

“I’ll get one.” He brought it to her and switched out her unopened beer for a water. "This is the Tylenol 3, not the Tramadol.”

“That’s fine. It’s not bad enough for Tramadol.” She knocked back the pill and chased it with water. “Thank you.”

Toby wanted to touch her hair, her face, to make a gesture that would mark her as his, but instead he simply took her beer back to the fridge.

Danny took note of all of it—the easy familiarity they had with each other, the casual intimacy--and felt his heart sink.

“I shouldn’t have come,” he murmured. “I should have asked first. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” It took an effort, but CJ sat up and laid her hand on his. “I’m so glad to see you.”

“And I’m glad to see you, too. Of course I am. But look at the two of you. I am very clearly interrupting. I didn’t count on coming home to find that you two had finally taken the next step after so many years of dancing around each other.”

Neither CJ nor Toby could deny it; they clearly had.

“We didn’t count on it either,” Toby said. “It feels like it just…happened.”

“You just tripped and fell into bed together?” There was no mistaking the brittle bitterness in Danny’s voice.

“Danny…” CJ’s voice was soft, and deeply tender.

Danny dropped his head in his hands and ran his fingers through his hair, disheveling it. “I just wish you’d told me. We’ve been flirting on the phone since the night you came home from the hospital; we’ve been talking about going to bed together.”

“I know. And, believe me, we’ve had conversations here about this. He couldn’t believe I’d turned you down when you offered to come home to me. He scolded me for it, actually.”

Danny raised his head and looked at Toby. “Why would you do that?”

“You think I don’t know how you feel about her? If you wanted to come home and she wanted you here, I wasn’t going to stand in the way. I want her to be happy.”

“So do I.”

“And now that we’re all in agreement on my happiness, can we take a minute and figure out how this is going to work?” CJ looked at each man in turn. “I don’t want to hurt either of you. I love both of you intensely.” She reached out and circled Danny’s wrist with her fingers, her eyes on his. “But I can’t put aside what’s happened between Toby and me during all of this. This--” She gestured at her shoulder, “—has fundamentally changed me. The person you’re in love with isn’t here anymore. She’s somewhere under the rubble of bullet fragments and nightmares, chronic pain and flashbacks. Toby’s been here to sift through the rubble. He’s lived with all of it.”

“Shared trauma isn’t the basis for a relationship,” Danny said.

“I know. But there’s more to it than that. You know there is. There’s years of history between us, years we should have spent together instead of dancing around and pretending there was nothing there.”

“We could make our own history,” Danny murmured, slipping his fingers into hers.

“Yes, we could,” CJ acknowledged. “I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t tempting. And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t wildly attracted to you. But I only get one pick … and for me, right now, that’s Toby.” When his eyes took on the too bright cast that spoke of tears, she nearly crumbled. She brought his hand to her lips and kissed it gently. “I’m sorry, Danny, so sorry.”

Toby came up behind her, slid his hand to the back of her neck, and squeezed. “Who said you only get one pick?”

“What?” CJ looked confused and startled.

“You said you only get one pick. What if you didn’t?”

“What are you saying?”

“What if you didn’t have to choose between Danny and me?”

“Short of splitting me in two, I don’t see how--”

“What if Danny and I both got to have you?”

Danny’s eyes came up to meet his. “If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking, that rarely ends well.”

“Not if it’s just once. No strings attached.”

CJ looked overwhelmed at the prospect. “I can’t … not tonight I can’t.”

“No.” Toby’s hand stayed on the back of her neck, warm and comforting. “None of us could handle it tonight. But … soon. This weekend. You’ll get to have us both. And if a choice needs to be made … you’ll choose then.”

Danny looked from one to the other. “Are you serious about this?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?’

“You’re not exactly the guy I’d picture indulging in threesomes.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

Danny raised his eyebrows at that. “CJ? Does that sound like something you’d enjoy?”

“Two handsome men making love to me? Sounds like heaven to me.” Her flip answer was undercut by the look of worry that crossed her face.

“We’d only do what you’re comfortable with,” Toby assured her. “Any time you wanted to stop, we’d stop.” He met Danny’s eyes. “Agreed?”

“Absolutely.” His agreement was immediate.

“So … this weekend? Saturday night?”

CJ looked from man to man, each of whom she loved and cherished, and nodded. “Saturday night.”

“Danny?”

“Saturday night.” His eyes were luminous. He squeezed CJ’s fingers. “I can’t wait.”

***


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CJ and Danny discuss what--if anything--the future holds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Even more sexual hijinks!

**Part 9:**

She should have been so completely worn out from a day that included work, PT, marathon sex, and an emotionally fraught visit from Danny that she slept hard through the night, but that, of course, wasn’t what happened.

A monstrously loud car backfire from down the street at 2am had her jerking upright in bed, her heart galloping, a scream bottled up in her lungs. Toby slept right through it, and she didn’t want to wake him up just because she was feeling fragile, so she got out of bed, slid on a long loose sweater, and walked to the living room where she curled up in an armchair.

Nothing could have surprised her more than hearing Toby suggest that she play sexually with both him and Danny. If anything, she thought he would have dug his heels in and reminded Danny that he and CJ were now an item and that Danny had come back on the scene too little and too late. But he hadn’t and she wasn’t sure why he hadn’t. Because he knew possessiveness wasn’t going to win him any points with her? Because he felt sorry for Danny? Because he wanted her to have no second thoughts about who she ended up with?

That was very likely it, she thought. He was giving her the opportunity to take them both for a test drive to see which she ultimately wanted. He’d never have put it so crudely, of course, but that’s what it amounted to. That way he would never have to wonder if, when she was making love to him, she was thinking of Danny instead.

That troubled her too, his idea that she was thinking of Danny when she was with him. He’d whispered in her ear, “Pretend I’m him” several weeks ago during their first “relaxation session” before bed. She hadn’t thought much of it at the time … she hadn’t been able to keep a coherent thought in her head after Toby drove her to a climax…but afterward, when she’d recalled it, she wondered why he’d said it. She hadn’t been thinking of Danny at all that night and hadn’t given Toby a reason to think she was. Why was he so sure that her mind was somewhere else when they were intimate with each other?

But did she think of Danny fondly? Oh yes. Absolutely. The memory of their first kiss in her office was seared into her brain. She could live to be 100 and would still remember the fire and intensity of that kiss, of the way he’d cupped the back of her neck with his hand and pulled her close, the way his mouth fit perfectly over hers, the way he’d kissed her with so much ardor that it made her knees weak and she’d had to twine her fingers with his to stay upright. The memory of that kiss turned her on powerfully, even five years later.

“Hey.” She heard Toby come into the room. “Are you okay?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Nightmare?”

“Car backfire.”

“Ah. You could have woken me.”

“You were dead to the world. And you need to sleep, honey, not get up with me whenever my nervous system can’t handle a loud noise.”

“I don’t mind getting up with you. And I think I’m getting pretty good at helping you fall back to sleep.” He came and laid a hand on her good shoulder.

CJ took his hand and pressed the back of it to her lips. “You are. Thank you.”

“Come back to bed and I’ll help you now.” He slid his palms down her back and began to knead, his strong hands working out the tension held there from too many sleepless nights, effortful PT sessions, and the stress and strain of life spent pretending she wasn’t in pain.

“Oh, that feels good,” she sighed.

“Relax for me, sweetheart.” His voice was the low, intimate caress that put butterflies in her stomach. His thumbs pressing and releasing along the ridge of her spine sent pleasurable shivers coursing through her whole body. “Let all that tension go.”

She leaned forward to give him better access and moaned when his fingers dug in with gentle pressure. “God, you’ve got the magic touch, Toby.”

He slid his hands to the small of her back. “Arch back against my hands.” She did and he pressed hard in just the right spot to make the tension she was holding release its grip. CJ gasped in surprise. “One more time.” He got more tension to let go that time. “There we go.” His hands moved up and down the length of her spine.

“That feels amazing,” she sighed.

“Come back to bed,” he murmured again, his hands settling just above her hips. “I’ll do this to your whole body.”

“You’re going to be so tired tomorrow,” she protested mildly.

He pulled her to her feet and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. “I’ll never be tired of doing this to you.”

With his skillful hands on her body, she was asleep again within minutes.

***

CJ was concentrating so hard on writing a press release about a weighty and mightily boring works bill the next morning that it took a shriek of delight from Carol to bring her thudding back to Earth.

“Danny, you’re back!”

“Carol, you are a sight for sore eyes!” Through the open door she could see that Danny was on the receiving end of an enthusiastic hug from Carol. He lifted her up off the ground and gave her a little twirl, which brought on a bubble of excited laughter from her assistant.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in London till the end of the year?”

“I had a little time off, so I figured I’d come home, go to a Caps game, see my favorite people. I’m headed back next week.”

“Does CJ--”

“She knows I’m here.” Danny pitched his voice up enough for her to hear him. “Hi, CJ.”

“Hi. Come on in and save me from this stupidly named works bill.”

Danny leaned over her shoulder to see the name of the document in question and winced. “Wow. That’s pretty bad.”

“I’m going to trip all over it in the briefing if I’m not careful.” She gave him a teasing smile and nodded to the press pass on a lanyard around his neck. “I see no one had the good sense to revoke your credentials.”

“Admit it … you guys have missed me like crazy.”

“I have,” Carol called from her office.

“You hear that? Loyalty. That’s what I love about you, Carol,” Danny called back.

“One of these days she’s going to take your flirting seriously,” CJ said, low enough that Carol wouldn’t hear her.

Danny leaned close and whispered in her ear, “The only person I’m interested in flirting with is you.” He straightened and said in a normal tone, “Do you have lunch plans?”

“I don’t know. Hey, Carol?” CJ called. “Do I have lunch plans?”

“Mmm… no, you don’t have anything until your 3pm briefing.”

“Well, then, I guess I’m free.”

“Good.” Danny peered into Gail’s fishbowl and smiled to see that the fish was still swimming happily. “How about the Old Ebbitt Grill at 1? I’ll make reservations.”

CJ studied him, not entirely clear on what Danny’s end game was in asking her to lunch, then decided not to make more of it than what it was.

“I have a detail,” she reminded him. “They go where I go.”

“Then I’m sure they’ll be glad you’re going someplace nice for lunch.” He shot her a wink. “I’ll come back by later and pick you up.”

***

“Look, you don’t get to be pissed off about me having lunch with Danny,” CJ said defensively. “Especially because it’s just lunch. It’s not as though we’re disappearing anywhere afterward.”

Toby stared at her as if she’d lost her mind. “Who said I was pissed off about you having lunch with Danny? When in this conversation did those words leave my mouth?”

“You had a look!”

Toby rolled his eyes. “Oh, for god’s sake, CJ. I did not.”

“I think I know you well enough by now to gauge when you’re wearing an annoyed look and when you aren’t. And you were. You had a look.”

“Could it possibly be because I’m trying to work on a speech and the President keeps calling me every 15 minutes with things he’d like added, deleted, or changed, meaning I’m actually getting very little accomplished? Could that be the source of the annoyed look?”

“It …could be,” CJ conceded, looking a bit sheepish.

“The sole source of my annoyance right this second is my job. Everything else can just get in line.”

CJ bit her lip. She felt badly for riling him up. “I’m sorry. What can I do?”

“Bring me some aspirin and shut the door.” Realizing how curt that sounded, he added, “Please” with a thin attempt at a smile.

She did bring him the aspirin and a large bottle of water, along with an uneaten pastry from breakfast. “Do you want me to bring you anything back?”

Toby shook his head. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. I just want to get this done.” He crossed out another sentence on his legal pad and sighed, then looked up. “Enjoy your lunch. Really.”

“If you change your mind and want something, just let me know.”

“I will.” He gave her a small tight smile. “I’ll see you later.” 

She considered it a rather perverse mark of progress that Toby had gotten short with her; he’d been so solicitous and sweet over the last six weeks as a result of her injury that she was starting to find it tiresome. If Toby was irritated and annoyed at her, it meant he wasn’t just seeing her injury when he looked at her.

“Ready?” Danny asked when she arrived back at her office.

“All set. The car will meet us at the Ellipse.”

Danny frowned. “We can’t walk?”

“They would prefer I didn’t.”

“Fair enough.”

Within moments they were inside the SUV and headed down 15th Street. “I know it’s a little weird, but Butterfield isn’t taking any chances with my safety.”

“You won’t hear me complaining.” He shot a glance at the front seat and lowered his voice. “Do they actually have to sit with us, or …”

“They’ll sit at the bar or a nearby table. And if there’s no room at either, they’ll find the ingress and egress points and station themselves there.”

The Old Ebbitt Grill was crowded, but they were able to find a booth for them with a table for her agents that was well out of earshot. Danny supposed it wasn’t the first time someone with a Secret Service detail had come in to eat; they were probably prepared for the request of two tables for one party.

“I am dying for some real seafood!” Danny said, opening the menu. “I’m getting sick of fish and chips.”

“Aren’t they excellent fish and chips though?”

“They are, but there’s only so much fried food a man can take.” Danny started reading menu descriptions with a smile. “I’ve missed American food.”

“Serves you right for deciding to live overseas.”

They place their orders—crab cakes for CJ, cedar plank salmon for Danny—and settled into the booth, both with iced tea.

“God, I’ve missed iced tea,” Danny ruminated, taking a long swallow. “I cannot get used to hot tea.”

CJ laughed. “I think you’re finding little annoyances because you have nothing big to complain about. You really like it over there, don’t you?”

“I do. It’s wonderful. The history, the culture … I’m having a blast. I wish you were there with me.”

“I’d love to spend a good chunk of time over there … a few weeks of traveling around, visiting all of the sights, going to the Lake District.”

“Visiting Highclere Castle.” Danny knew her weakness … he’d heard all about the _Downton Abbey_ viewing. “We could take the train to Scotland, head up to the Highlands.”

CJ’s face took on a dreamy cast. “That sounds incredible.

Danny took her hands in his. “So, come with me. Take some time off. Even just a week or ten days.”

“I can’t, Danny. You know I can’t. I have to be here.”

“They just did without you for eighteen days.”

“There was no choice. I couldn’t do my briefings in a sling with pain killers coursing through my veins.”

“Take some more time to convalesce. You could use it. I know you’re still in pain every day. I know you’re not sleeping well.”

“It wouldn’t be any better in London,” CJ said gently. “I’d just be overseas, in pain and not sleeping. And there’s no way I can stay in a hotel room … I still wake up screaming. Can you imagine what that would do to the other guests?”

Danny looked shaken at that. “I didn’t know the nightmares were that bad.”

“They aren’t always. But they’re bad enough.”

“How—I’m probably going to hate myself for asking this, because I think I know the answer, but how do you deal with them normally?”

“Toby,” she said softly. “He stays with me most nights.”

“In the same bed?”

“Generally.”

“And you’ve made love?”

“Danny--” She sighed. “Yes.”

Danny looked out the window. His face was anguished. She covered his hand with her own.

“What can I do?”

“Nothing.”

“Danny.” She reached across the table—it hurt her shoulder, but she only vaguely registered it—and put a hand on his cheek. “Sweetheart.” His nickname for her on her tongue sounded awkward, but it was the only thing that seemed to fit.

“Are you in love with him?”

CJ had to stop and really give the question some thought. “I love Toby,” she said slowly. “Am I _in love_ with him? I don’t know. It feels different with him than it does with anyone else, even with you.”

“Do you love me?”

“You know I do.”

“Then why can’t we make this work?”

“I’m not saying we can’t. I’m just--” She blew out a hard breath. “I’m not in a position to know what I want right now. If you want me to choose, I can’t, and I’m not saying that to get out of making a hard decision. I’m still trying to deal with all of this.” She made a broad gesture to encompass her shoulder, her agents sitting a discreet distance away. “What I said last night is true … the woman you fell in love with is gone. I’m what’s left. And I feel like … like damaged goods.”

“Hey.” It was his turn to reach out for her. “CJ. Baby. That’s not true.”

“It is though. Life isn’t going to be normal for a long time, Danny. I’ve got a 24/7 Secret Service detail until they catch the guy … _if_ they catch the guy, which looks increasingly unlikely. I spend all day making allowances for this.” She gestured at her shoulder again. “I’m in near constant pain. I still get panic attacks in the car and sometimes even just walking into my building. I have nightmares. I’m not okay. The woman I was before you left for London had a hole blasted in her six weeks ago and I don’t know how to get back to normal. Is that really who you want to tie yourself to?”

“Yes,” Danny said immediately. “I don’t know how to say it any clearer. I’m madly in love with you, CJ. There’s never been anyone else.”

CJ’s eyes filled with tears. She quickly wiped them away, glancing around to see if anyone they knew was nearby to witness her crying.

“Come back to my place,” Danny urged, his hand on hers.

“I can’t.”

“You and Toby aren’t--”

“It has nothing to do with Toby. I have to get back to work. I can’t just leave in the middle of the day.”

“Tonight then.”

“That’s not a good idea and you know it.”

“CJ--”

“We’ll have Saturday.”

“We will. But, look--” He took her hand then, thinking better of it, released it. “—I don’t want it to be all we have. If you choose Toby … and I’m pretty sure you’re going to, since you’ve been working hard to convince me you’re too damaged for me to love … then I at least want the opportunity to be with you once in a way that doesn’t involve him. I want one chance to make love to you in the way I’ve always wanted to.” 

CJ blushed deeply, unsure what to say. The ardor in Danny’s voice and on his face was unmistakable. It was also deeply appealing.

She had made no commitment to Toby… not yet anyway. And he hadn’t made one to her. They hadn’t spoken of exclusivity. Hell, they hadn’t even spoken of love yet. The word had never come up between them. Every word the previous night had concerned desire, lust, craving. They had been starving for each other. But did that translate into love or a happily ever after? They had made love, certainly, but they had never gifted each other the word, neither spoken in the heat of passion, nor packed neatly in one of their many discussions and wrapped in a bow. She wanted Toby. She needed him. Was she in love with him? How was she to know?

And then there was Danny, with his beautiful eyes and his laughing mouth and his smile that set her insides on fire. Danny was her comfort, her ease, her center of calm in a world that was increasingly chaotic and terrifying. Did she love him? She was almost sure she did and had from the moment he first spoke to her. That searing kiss in her office had sealed it long ago. She knew she loved Danny Concannon. But would it be enough for the two of them, especially when he saw the jagged pieces where a whole woman once was? Would he still love her if she was broken nearly beyond repair? 

CJ took a deep breath, then finally said, “I’ll come by your place later. After work. I’m making no promises about what will or won’t go on … but I’ll come by. Is that okay?”

Danny nodded, satisfied. “That sounds great.

***

It ended up working out perfectly. Tuesday was one of her days off from PT, and Toby was so monumentally exhausted from writing, re-writing, and then re-re-writing a speech for the president that he took the rare step of going straight home. He checked in with her before he left, and she assured him that she would be fine without him for the night.

So that she didn’t feel as if she was sneaking around, she mentioned that she was going to have dinner with Danny. Toby nodded tiredly.

“I’d figured he’d want to see you while he’s in town.”

“Does it bother you?”

“I’m not ecstatic about it, but I also don’t have any right to be put out by it. I’m just glad you’re getting out of the house.”

“I’m not going far; just to Danny’s.”

“He’s cooking?”

“He mentioned Thai.”

“Have a good time.” He looked so exhausted that she felt a flash of concern.

“I can stay home. Take care of you for a change.”

Toby smiled. “I’m okay. I just need a cold beer and a solid night’s sleep.”

Remembering that she was at least part of the reason for his fractured sleep made her feel even worse. He saw it on her face, because he very quickly cupped her cheek and murmured, “Last night was worth it” before dropping his hand and stepping back.

“Make sure you eat something,” she said.

“I will. I’ll see you tomorrow. Call me if you need anything.”

“I’ll be fine. Turn your ringer off and get plenty of sleep.”

She left not long after he did and had her agents take her directly to Danny’s place.

***

All they were going to do was talk. Never mind that they had talked in circles during lunch, going over the same territory again and again. Never mind that she knew Danny’s expectation if she came over was that they were going to be intimate. They were going to talk. That was all.

But they didn’t. As soon as Danny closed the door behind her, she wrapped her arms around him, kissed him breathlessly, and that was it for them both. There was no talking for at least the next ten minutes as they kissed and came up for air, moved to the couch and resumed kissing, then decided to head back to the bedroom where they could both stretch out.

“Are you sure about this?” Danny whispered against her mouth.

“I can second guess later.”

“I don’t want you to second guess at all.”

“Danny.” She gave a low, frustrated groan. “I’m going to have second thoughts no matter what I do and who I do it with. That’s just me. Please don’t make me have them now. I just want to let this happen.”

“You’ve got it.” He slid his fingers into her hair, pulled her head back, and trailed a line of kisses down the hollow of her throat.

He pushed her back against the wall and pressed up against her, his hips grinding. She moved against him eagerly, kissing him with a ferocity he didn’t expect, but was glad to see.

“Do you know how much I’ve wanted you?” Danny growled in her ear. “How often I wanted to pull you in to a dark corner like this and just ravish you?

She’d had similar fantasies, including ones that took place on her desk. “Every time I saw you,” she whispered back, “I wanted your hands on me, your mouth on me. I have never stopped wanting you.”

He kissed her, deeply, and worked her skirt up around her waist. He plunged his fingers into the warmth of her center and began stroking her, kissing her all the while. She gasped and gave herself over to it, digging her fingers into his back as he worked her toward a climax.

It raked through her all at once, causing her to cry out in both pleasure and startlement, her knees going weak with the force of it. Danny kept her steady as she shook, then sank to his knees, grasped her hips, and began to lap at her. She put her hands on his shoulders for support, then held on, gripping tightly as he played her with his tongue until she climaxed again, this time longer and stronger. She nearly screamed that time, it was so intense, and her legs were shaking so badly she wasn’t sure they would have held her without Danny’s support.

“That’s my girl,” Danny murmured. He kissed her stomach. “I knew you’d feel amazing when I got my hands on you.” He rose, still holding her upright. “Can you handle more of me?”

She could, surprisingly, even after two climaxes. She wanted him even more, if that were possible. “I can handle every inch of you,” she whispered. “I want you now.”

Danny picked her up and carried her to the bed, a gesture that flustered her so much it took her a moment to know how to respond. They moved quickly to get their clothes off and the covers back. Then Danny was touching her again, slipping his fingers inside, stretching her, coaxing more wetness out of her.

“Are you ready for me?”

“More than ready.”

She guided him to her and waited to feel him sink all the way into her. The sensation didn’t come. He teased her instead, pressing in a little bit at a time, making her moan impatiently. “Danny, PLEASE--”

He thrust forward all the way, filling her up, causing her to gasp out a surprised breath. He groaned, his own breathing starting to come faster.

“Oh, CJ. Baby, you feel incredible.” He buried his face in her neck for a moment, completely overcome.

“Danny.” She wrapped her arms around him, breathed him in, let herself revel in the feeling of him rocking inside of her. “My god.”

“Let me make you come again, sweetheart. I want to feel you come while I’m inside you.”

Jesus. The words alone nearly sent her spiraling again. He picked up his pace, thrusting in and out, using his fingers to play out little arpeggios of pleasure on her overheated core. The sensation was so intense that she felt herself starting to fly apart.

“Danny,” she moaned. “Danny, I’m about—Oh, god, I’m--” She lost her words, her breath, when a wave of pleasure so hot and hard crashed over her that all she could do was cry out and clench her hands in his back. She could dimly feel him thrusting faster, harder, and heard his guttural groan as he came inside her.

They both lay twined together, too exhausted to move. Danny rolled onto his side but was careful to stay inside her. She wanted to keep that intense connection a few minutes longer, so she locked her arms around him. He kissed the side of her neck, then under her ear, then her forehead, sweet and tender.

“Hey, beautiful.” He smoothed her hair back. “How are you?”

“Completely worn out. You?”

“Exhilarated. Jesus, sweetheart, that was intense.”

“It was amazing.” She ran her fingers through his hair. “You made me shake.”

“You made me feel as though I saw the face of God.” He touched her cheek. “And I still want you.” She could, incredibly, feel him getting harder inside of her, even so soon after his climax. “Am I asking too much if I--”

She didn’t even let him finish the sentence. “Do it again. Go slower this time.”

He propped himself on his arms and began thrusting again, long, slow strokes that set off deep liquid pulls of pleasure in her belly. She arched against him and moaned.

“Do you want me, Claudia?” he whispered against her neck.

“You know I do.”

“I want you to scream out my name. Can you do that for me?”

He kept up those same strong thrusts, filling her to the hilt, then withdrawing almost all the way so he could push in deeply again, until her breath was coming in little gasps. She shuddered with the intensity and wrapped her legs around his back.

He groaned; she could feel him starting to sweat from exertion. “Fuck, CJ. You’ve got me so close.”

“Me too,” she gasped out. “Danny, I need it.”

“I’ll make it happen. I promise you, baby, I’ll make you come so hard.” He pulled her up against his chest, changing their position just enough to be able to thrust at a different angle. That was all it took to make her climax with a scream. He pressed his mouth to hers and swallowed the scream, holding her as she panted and shook. His own orgasm hit him when he felt her contracting sharply around him. He came inside of her again, shuddering with emotion and intense physical sensation.

Limp and sated, they fell back on the pillows together. Danny started to lay his forehead on her shoulder, then realized in the nick of time it was the bad one and switched their positions so that she was lying on top of him. He stroked her back as her breathing slowed down.

“Jesus, Danny,” CJ mumbled. “I think you may have found a way to wear me out enough to sleep.”

Danny laughed and kissed the side of her neck, then eased her onto her back so he could look down at her. “Stay here with me tonight.”

“I shouldn’t--”

“You should. Unless you want to do the walk of shame in front of your agents, who will know for sure that you and I did more than just have dinner.”

CJ laughed. “They’ll know anyway if I stay overnight.”

“I’ll tell them you’re not feeling well and you’re going to get some sleep; they can’t argue with that. And don’t say they’ll gossip about it either, because you know they don’t. They’re extremely tight-lipped. They won’t even take a bribe.” Danny winked when he said that last.

“It would be nice to stay.”

“So, stay.” He kissed her tenderly. “I’ll loan you something to sleep in. I’ve got an extra toothbrush. I’ll make us dinner. Then we’ll come back here for dessert.”

CJ groaned. “I think I’ve had all the ‘dessert’ I can reasonably stand. I’m going to feel that tomorrow.”

Danny brushed her hair back from her face. “I’m crazy in love with you.”

CJ wrapped her hand around the back of his neck and pulled him to her for a deep kiss. He didn’t press her to respond to the ‘I love you’; he just kissed her forehead.

“Let me get you something to wear.”

***

Dinner was eggs and toast, which was absolute manna from heaven as far as they were concerned. Both were famished. They dug into some fruit, as well, and then into one of the bars of dark chocolate that Danny was so fond of snacking on.

They shared his shower, which was almost not a good idea on two counts—CJ slipped, and Danny had to move quickly to steady her, and soaping each other up then turned into a protracted make out session that didn’t stop until the water ran cold.

She wore one of Danny’s Washington Capitals t-shirts; it was red and faded and so soft from multiple washings that she immediately schemed to steal it for herself. They settled into bed and kissed and caressed until CJ fell asleep with her head on Danny’s chest.

She woke up a few hours later from a dream in which she had been shot through the chest and her lungs had collapsed on the ride to the hospital. She was hyperventilating and shaking; her heart felt as though it was about to hammer out of her chest. Danny was already awake beside her.

“It was a dream,” he soothed. “That’s all it was.” 

“Goddamn. That was awful. That was SO awful!” Her heart was galloping.

“You’re safe.” He placed a hand on her back. “Everything’s fine.”

“I’m so sorry,” she apologized, over and over. “I didn’t mean--”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. Everything’s okay.”

“I told you, I’m a mess--”

“You’re not a mess.”

“This is what it’s like every day. Every night.”

She could feel her breath starting to come shorter again and clearly so could Danny. “You’re safe, sweetheart,” he repeated, his hand steady and warm on her back. “Breathe down that panic. Take a deep inhale, and a slow controlled exhale.”

She had to work to get her breathing under control, but she did manage it.

“I hate this,” she groaned, wiping sweat from her forehead.

“I know. I’m so sorry.”

“I feel so weak.”

“You’re not.” Danny took her face in his hands and turned it toward him. “Listen to me, CJ. You’re not weak. Not in the slightest. Not at all. You survived. You’re getting stronger. You’re doing great.”

“Except for the part where I get nightmares most every night.”

“So, you get nightmares. I’d say that’s probably normal for someone who’s undergone this much trauma. Did Josh say anything about nightmares?”

“He had them. He still gets them sometimes.”

“Right. See? Normal. Not fun. But normal. And not at all weak.” He smoothed her hair back from her forehead. “What can I do?”

“Right now? Hand me that glass of water, please.”

Danny passed it over and she drank until her throat wasn’t so parched.

“I didn’t scream, did I?”

“No.”

“Good. I don’t fancy waking up your neighbors.” She sank back against the pillows.

Danny lay back down next to her and pulled her close. “Think you can sleep again?”

“You know … I actually think I can.”

Danny kissed her gently. “I’m here if you need me.”

CJ rested a hand on his chest. “I know. Thank you.”

They were both back to sleep within minutes.

***


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toby says the wrong thing. Danny and Toby have it out.

**PART 10:**

On Wednesday afternoon, Toby watched CJ, Josh, and Will walk back in together from the President’s speech at the Capitol. It had been such a busy day for all of them that he hadn’t been able to say more than a cursory hello … Leo had him plugging away, nose to the grindstone all afternoon, to get drafts of the President’s various G7 Summit speeches ready. He put the finishing touches on the fourth speech, printed it out, and headed for Leo’s office. CJ, Josh, and Will were already there, being debriefed.

“I think it went very well,” CJ said, clearly wrapping up her thoughts. “Would you agree, Josh?”

“There was a little hiccup in the education section but, overall, I thought it sounded great.”

Leo nodded, obviously pleased. “If there’s nothing else, I’d say the three of you have earned a break. CJ, have you got--?” He jerked his thumb in the direction of the Residence.

“I do, but I can skip it if you need me to.”

“Not necessary. Go to your session.”

CJ nodded, rose to leave. She caught sight of Toby in the doorway and smiled warmly.

“Can I walk you?” he asked.

“Of course. I just need to pick up my bag.”

They started down the hallway toward their offices.

“Did you get some sleep last night?” she asked him.

“I did. Did you?”

He noted her blush and sighed inwardly, his stomach diving into free fall. He had known it was extremely likely that she and Danny would sleep together. The chemistry between them was electric; it always had been. They had been headed for something intense before it became apparent that the administration couldn’t afford the optics that came with the press secretary dating a reporter. It had taken Danny leaving the country on reporting assignments, not once but twice, to keep them apart. What had he expected now that they were back in the same city? For Danny to keep his distance? For CJ to decide that what she and Toby had begun exploring was better than anything she might have had with Danny?

He had hoped and even prayed that she would decide that what the two of them had was far superior to any kind of relationship she could have with Danny, who was, after all, working overseas. How would the two of them pursue a relationship with she in America and he in the UK? Surely phone calls were a poor substitute for physical intimacy and seeing each other at holidays wouldn’t be enough. CJ was better off with him, just as he was better off with her.

But he and CJ had made no promises to each other, so he technically had no real reason to be pissed off at her or for this to feel like a betrayal. But he was, and it did. They had finally gotten it together, he and CJ, and experienced some sincerely mind-blowing lovemaking. And yet, on the very evening that the stars had aligned, Danny Concannon had shown back up. What was fair about that? 

“Did you get it out of your system?” he asked, unable to keep the caustic note out of his voice.

CJ glared at him. “Did I get WHAT out of my system?”

“Danny.”

“You make him sound like he’s a virus.”

Toby shrugged. He wanted to respond with “if the shoe fits” but it was too petty. He knew that everything about this conversation so far had been petty, but he somehow couldn’t stop himself from remarking on it all the same.

“Jesus Christ,” CJ muttered. “So, I have to do this with you, too?”

“Do what with me?”

“Justify my choices about who I sleep with. I already had to do it with Danny.”

“I’m not asking you to justify anything.”

“So that judgmental sneer in your voice is just there for show?”

“You’re a bit defensive,” Toby noted drily. “Any particular reason why?”

“Because you’re looking at me as if I’ve done something distasteful.”

Toby shrugged again, which seemed to infuriate her. She followed him into his office, pulled the door shut, and locked it for good measure.

“Are you going to be a child about this?”

“It’s childish to be upset that my girlfriend is sleeping with another man?”

Calling her his girlfriend gave her a moment of pause. She started to say something, stopped, then took a moment to get her thoughts in order before starting again.

“You’re the one who put Saturday on the table, remember?”

“Exactly. _Saturday_. It was meant to be a one-time thing. You weren’t supposed to sleep with Danny while I was home trying to catch up on my rest.”

“Are you telling me that if your places were reversed you wouldn’t have done exactly the same thing?”

It was his turn to stop and consider what she was saying. Were he in Danny’s position, would he have been able to accept that his only time to be intimate with CJ was when they were in the room with another man? No. That wouldn’t have flown. He’d have found some way to be close to her before then. He was certain of that. But that didn’t help the feelings of anger and betrayal that were bubbling in his gut, and it didn’t keep the vitriol from flowing out of him when he spoke.

“That’s not the point.”

“No, the point is you’re acting like an ass.”

“The point is you’re acting like a slu--”

He clamped down hard on the word, unable to believe he’d been about to say it. He’d never said something so raw, vicious, and ugly to anyone. And he hadn’t meant it—of course he hadn’t! What the hell had come over him?

CJ clearly knew what had been about to come out of his mouth. She staggered back a step, as if he had physically struck her. Her cheeks flamed bright red.

“CJ, I didn’t--”

“Fuck you, Toby,” she ground out between clenched teeth.

“CJ--”

“We’re done.” She turned on her heel, wrenched the door open hard, and stormed out.

Toby leaned against his desk and buried his face in his hands.

***

She channeled her anger into her PT session, going hard at the weights, grinding out reps, adding more weight blocks. Her therapist, torn as to whether she should be praising CJ’s progress or cautioning her to take it a bit slower, finally instructed her to move on to resistance band exercises. She went hard at those, too, still so angry and hurt that the only way to alleviate those feelings was intense physical activity. By the time she was finished, she was sweating and shaking and not one single bit less angry. 

Her therapist wrapped her shoulder in ice and had her lie down on the treatment table for 15 minutes while she wrote up her notes for the day. CJ stared up at the ceiling, replaying the argument with Toby, the moment when that awful word nearly slipped out of his mouth. She felt hot with embarrassment and shame. 

Toby always came upstairs to the Residence to meet her when she was done with her PT session. He wasn’t there by the time she changed out of her workout clothes and into street clothes; she didn’t know if she would have been madder if he had showed up or was madder because he hadn’t. She headed downstairs and toward the car on her own.

She had overdone her exercises, to the extent that she was starting to feel shaky from the exertion. Her agents saw she was looking unsteady … Bobby stayed a step closer to her than normal and even took her elbow to help her into the car.

“Are you alright, Ms. Cregg?” he asked.

“I’m fine.” She offered what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “Just tired.”

Bobby and Julianne kept shooting looks at her in the rearview mirror during the ride home; they weren’t used to seeing her without Toby.

She wondered if she might see Toby’s car in the parking lot of her building as they rolled up; maybe he had taken it into his head to drive by to apologize. She was disappointed but somehow not surprised when she didn’t. Danny was there, though, sitting outside with her agents, laughing with them as if they had been friends for years.

“Hey!” Danny waited for the car to roll to a stop before he opened the door for her. The smile slid off his face when he saw her. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head curtly and cut her eyes toward her agents to signal that she didn’t want to talk about it in mixed company. He nodded and grabbed her shoulder bag from the back seat.

“Thank you, Bobby. Thank you, Julianne. I’m in for the night,” CJ said.

Julianne looked concerned but nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Have a good evening.” She pushed open the door to the building and watched CJ and Danny navigate the small flight of steps from the lobby to the first floor.

CJ could barely get her keys in the lock. Danny took them from her.

“My god, what happened?” Danny asked, when they were in her front hallway and the door was secured behind them. “Sweetheart, you’re shaking.”

“I overdid it at PT.” She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, downed a quarter of it, and began peering at the labels of the pill bottles on the counter.

“Which one are you looking for?”

“Tramadol.”

“It’s right here.” He got the pill bottle open and handed her a capsule. “There something more going on than overdoing it at PT. What’s wrong?”

“Toby and I got in an argument.”

“Ah.” Danny nodded. “I see. Which of you won?”

“We both lost.” CJ took another gulp of her water and leaned back against the counter. “And we’re done.”

“You’re … done?”

“We’re done. Him and I. We’re done. Finished.”

“CJ--”

“He crossed a line.”

“I’m sorry, you completely lost me. What line?”

“There are certain things you don’t say to a woman, especially not to a woman you claim to be in love with. He said one of them. He crossed the line. So, we’re done.” 

“Okay.” Danny decided to tread carefully. “Did any of this have to do with how we spent our evening yesterday?”

“Yes.”

“So, he was angry and unhappy and hurt that you’d slept with me. And he said something he clearly should not have said. Is that about the size of it?”

“Yes.”

“Not to state the obvious here, but people _do_ say things in the heat of the moment that they don’t mean--”

“Not that!” CJ snapped. “Not that word. You don’t call a woman a slut if you don’t mean it.”

Danny’s jaw clenched. “That’s what he said?”

“If he’d used the truly unforgivable one, he’d have been on his back on the floor.” CJ finished off her water, then reached into the refrigerator for another. She pulled her ice wrap out of the freezer while she was at it and slid it on, shuddering when the cold hit her skin. “Bastard.”

Danny sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “CJ--”

“Don’t do it,” she said, pacing around the kitchen. “Don’t make excuses for him.”

“I’m not. I wouldn’t do that. But I’m trying to see if from his point of view. If you found out Toby had slept with another woman, are you telling me you wouldn’t want to scratch her eyes out?”

“I would. But I’d direct the anger at her, not at him.”

Danny looked mildly amused. “So, what, you were hoping for a fist fight between Toby and me instead?”

“No. Ugh, I don’t know.” CJ was clearly unable to decide whether to move or sit and finally she opted for sitting at the kitchen table. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. We should have just …. left it at Saturday. That’s all it should have been.”

“C’mon.” Danny sat down across from her. “You know as well as I do that Saturday wasn’t going to be enough.” His blue eyes looked troubled. “Do you regret last night?”

Her eyes met and held his. “No. Not at all. I just wish this wasn’t so complicated.”

She remembered Abby Bartlett saying, of her relationship with Toby, “It’s complex, which isn’t always a bad thing” and sighed. “I don’t see a way for all three of us to come out of this intact.”

Danny nodded. “I know. Neither do I. And if I was a little less selfish, I could see myself leaving you with Toby and going back to London with my heart broken, trying to find someone who does to me what you do to me. But, CJ…” He caressed her cheek. “No one else does to me what you do. No one.” He felt hot tears hit his hand and he smoothed them away with his thumb. “I don’t want to give that up. Call it selfishness, but I just can’t set that aside. I’m in love with you.”

Her mouth was on his then, hot and demanding. He kissed her back with fervor, groaning against her mouth. She twisted her fingers into the front of his shirt and pulled him close; he slid a hand to the small of her back. Most of the kisses they shared were intense but this one was electric, lighting them both up. He drew her to her feet, then pulled her into his arms, trying to keep his hold gentle in deference to her shoulder. Her hips pressed against his and he could feel himself starting to harden.

The intercom buzzed. They both ignored it, continuing to kiss each other deeply. It buzzed again. CJ groaned, dropping her forehead onto his shoulder. “What the hell?”

“Better get it,” Danny whispered into her hair. “Or they’ll think something’s wrong.”

With a huge effort, CJ pushed out of his embrace and crossed to the intercom. “Yes?”

“Ms. Cregg, Mr. Ziegler is here to see you. Should we send him up?”

CJ wanted to heave a sigh but knew her agents could hear it over the intercom. She replied, “That’s fine, thank you” in as even a tone as she could manage.

Danny took a seat at the kitchen table. CJ was glad he hadn’t suggested leaving. She shot him a quick look as she straightened her hair and clothes and he gave her a wink in return.

The knock came at the door and CJ opened it. Toby was on the other side with a massive bouquet of sunflowers.

“I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am.”

CJ ushered him inside, shut the door, and locked it behind him.

“You should be. I didn’t deserve that.”

“No, you didn’t. All I can do is plead both jealousy and temporary insanity …. I’d been grinding out speeches since 9:30am.” His eyes fell on Danny and his mouth tightened. “What is--”

Danny held up a fending hand. “She didn’t call me … I was waiting here for her to get home.”

The pause that ensued set them all back on their heels for a moment. Finally, CJ took the flowers from Toby, pulled out a tall vase from underneath the sink, filled it with water and a shot of vodka, and set the flowers in it.

The silence stretched until CJ finally offered, “Have a seat if you’d like.”

Toby shot Danny a mistrustful look but sat. CJ went to the fridge, got out bottles of Stella Artois, and placed them in front of Toby and Danny before sitting down with her own bottle of water.

“You’re not having one?” Toby asked.

“I just took a Tramadol.”

“Are you okay?”

“Overdid it at PT.”

Toby looked guilty. “Because I made you angry.”

“You’re damn right you did. I was ready to slug you. If my shoulder wasn’t such a mess I probably would have.”

“You had every right. I should never have said it.”

“Is that what you see me as?” Her voice was tight. “Do you honestly think of me as a…” She didn’t want to say it and, thankfully, Toby cut her off before she could.

“No. I don’t. Not at all. I was jealous, frustrated, tense, and angry, and you know my mouth works far in advance of my brain when I’m angry. That’s meant to be an explanation, not an excuse … there’s no excuse for speaking to you like that.”

“Toby--” Danny started. When Toby glared at him, Danny continued, “Look, we’re both here, we may as well hash this out right now, okay? There’s not going to be a better time.”

Toby subsided with a nod.

“I owe both of you an apology. I shouldn’t have put myself in the middle of all of this, inadvertently though it may have been. But what’s done is done and we have to figure out how to make this work for all of us. Agreed?”

Toby and CJ both nodded.

“CJ.” Danny extended a hand across the table to her. She placed hers in it. “You know how I feel about you. You know I want to spend the rest of my life with you. But I also know that our jobs will keep us away from each other for the foreseeable future. So, if it helps to steady things here, I’ll go back to London at the end of the week and we can revisit this discussion when we’re all calmer and better able to handle it.”

CJ bit her lip to keep tears from falling. “Thank you, Danny.”

Toby looked as though he was searching for words. Finally, he said, “But you are right, Danny; we’re all here now. And I don’t want a repeat of this in 18 months when we’re out of the White House and figuring out next steps. I don’t want to turn this into either a melodramatic farce or a testosterone-fueled fist fight, but the discussion needs to be had.” 

CJ looked from one man to the other, then back again, and finally said, “No, it doesn’t.”

“I’m sorry?” Toby looked lost.

“No, the discussion does not need to be had. Not tonight. Not if you’re going to ask me to do the same thing that I already told you I couldn’t do two nights ago. I cannot choose between the two of you. Not like this. Not with emotions running high and the two of you ready to clobber each other.”

“We can’t just table this,” Toby interjected, and CJ cut right back in over him.

“I’m not saying we table it forever; I’m saying we table it for now. At the very least until Saturday … although I get the feeling our original plans for that night might not happen, not with the way the two of you are glaring at each other.”

Neither Toby nor Danny looked at each other, but they did both look sheepish.

CJ laughed brittlely. “Why did I have to fall in love with two of the most stubborn men on the planet? The two of you need to go home. I’m going to sleep alone tonight. I’ll see you at work,” she said pointing to Toby, “and I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” she finished, pointing at Danny.

“Are you sure?” Danny asked, looking concerned.

“That I want to be completely free of anyone with a Y-chromosome? Yes. For tonight anyway. I can’t deal with this much emotional upheaval in one day.”

Toby nodded and stood up, his back rigid. He wouldn’t give her his eyes. He looked incredibly hurt. “Good night then.”

“Toby, just…” She sighed. “Just wait, okay.”

She met Danny’s eyes, pleading for help.

Danny picked up his coat and moved toward the door, his hand lightly brushing the small of her back as he passed her. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said quietly and left. 

CJ locked the door behind him and leaned her forehead against the cold steel, praying for the strength to deal with her best friend, who could be trying at the best of times, not to mention on days when she wasn’t aching physically and emotionally.

“Don’t make me feel badly for telling you what I need,” she said, not ready to turn and face him yet. “It isn’t fair.”

“You’re right.” His hands came up to rest on her good shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“All I’m asking for is space. For tonight. It doesn’t mean any more than that.”

He removed his hand from her shoulder and stepped back. She laughed tiredly and turned to face him.

“I didn’t mean you couldn’t touch me… I just meant I wanted to sleep alone.”

Toby nodded but didn’t replace his hand. “I am truly sorry. I lost my head thinking of you with Danny.”

CJ rubbed the bridge of her nose and sighed. “I got that memo, yeah.”

“I know you don’t want to talk about it tonight and, you’re right, we probably shouldn’t. But …” He looked terrified but plunged ahead. “Please tell me I haven’t ruined everything with my temper and my stupid mouth.”

CJ shook her head. “You haven’t.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Yet.”

Toby nodded. “So noted.” He moved toward the door. “I’ll leave you alone.”

“Thank you.” She unlocked the door for him.

“But you’ll call? If you need anything? I’m not trying to coddle, I’m just …” He reached as if to touch her cheek, then stopped. “I worry.”

“I’ll call,” she assured him. “And I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay. Good night.” He left, looking marginally less tense than he had when he’d arrived.

CJ shut and locked the door a final time, sighed, and decided that, painkillers be damned, she needed a drink.

***

Danny shook off the brief sensation that he was metaphorically taking his life in his hands and walked over to Toby, who was looking only somewhat less pissed off than he had five minutes prior.

“I say we either go have a drink and talk this out, or we get in a fist fight. Which one would you prefer?”

There was a moment when he was sure he was going to get Toby’s fist in his face for his trouble. Then Toby chuckled and said, “There’s a bar down the street” and the two men fell into step together.

They didn’t speak again until they were ensconced in a booth with a microbrew in front of each of them. Since neither of them had eaten, Danny asked for an order of loaded nachos … to his mind, tempers would ease a bit once they both had food and alcohol in their systems.

“No offense intended here, Danny,” Toby said, “but I wish you’d stayed in London.”

“At the moment, I wish I had too.” Danny sipped his beer. “For what it’s worth, I had no idea you two were trying to make it work.”

“We weren’t trying. It was just … happening. It’s like you said the other night, we spent all those years dancing around, pretending there was nothing there, and then suddenly…” Toby shook his head. “That felt like way too much wasted time.”

“I know. When I heard she’d been shot, it was like being gut-punched. I’d have lost my legs if I hadn’t been sitting down. And I was set to just go to Heathrow and get on a jet, money, time zones, and everything else be damned. I was about to head back to my flat and pack a bag when I thought to call you to get the full story.”

The nachos arrived and both men dug in.

“What made you take my call?” Danny asked.

“What call?”

“The one I made to you on the day she was shot. Everyone in DC must have been trying to get you on the phone that day, including the President. So why did you take mine?”

“I knew you’d be concerned. And CJ would have wanted you to know she was okay.”

“Do you regret it?”

“Please.” Toby rolled his eyes. “Give me credit for being a better person than that.” He piled toppings on a chip and shoveled it into his mouth.

“I’m giving you a lot of credit. I don’t think she’d have made it through this without you. Which is also why I can’t be too pissed that the two of you are doing whatever it is you’re doing … you’re good for her.”

Toby laughed. “I don’t think she would agree with that right now.”

“You said an awful thing. But you owned it, you apologized for it, and you’ll never say it again … she’ll kick your ass if you do.”

“And I’d deserve it. I still do deserve it.” Toby took a deep swig of his beer. “I lost my head. I just kept thinking of her with you and it …” He sighed. “If I hadn’t been so hung up on Andi, I’d have figured all this out sooner, we’d have gotten our acts together, and we wouldn’t even be having this discussion.” He pulled a pen out of his pocket, pulled a napkin close to him, and began aimlessly scribbling. When Danny raised an eyebrow, he explained, “It helps me think.” He scribbled a bit more while Danny signaled for another beer from their server. “I don’t want to lose her. Not now. Not when we finally got it right.”

“And therein lies the problem.” Danny drained the last of his glass and slid it to the edge of the table for their server to take. “Because I don’t want to lose her either. But until she’s ready to make a decision, all we can really do is go round and round like this, which doesn’t seem to be doing either of us much good.”

“We have eighteen more months to stick the landing on this administration,” Toby mused. “After that, who knows where we go. Maybe she’ll stay on in DC and work another political job. Maybe I’ll take a professorship at one of the schools I keep getting offers from. Maybe we make it. Maybe we flounder.” He looked at Danny. “Are you staying on in London?”

“Well …” Danny hedged.

“They’re crazy if they haven’t offered you a permanent spot.”

“They have. They’ve offered me a two-year contract. But I’m not sure if I’ll take it.”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

“You know why not.”

“If you come back to the Post, you and CJ can’t--”

“I know.” Danny sighed and ran a hand over his face. “I could quit, I guess, but--”

“She’d hate you for doing that, especially if she thought you did it for her.”

“That’s the only reason I’d do it. I love my job. But I love her more.”

“And she’s in love with you, Danny. Has been from day one. But how is it going to work, with you in London, her here, and neither of you able to move?”

Danny nodded. He looked miserable. “I know,” he said again.

“Look.” Toby sighed, drained his beer, and signaled for another. “We could metaphorically kick this can further down the road. Say to hell with it now and revisit it again in 18 months. But we’d still have the same problem.”

“Not necessarily. She might get sick of the two of us and go find a Secret Service agent instead.”

Both sobered at the memory of Simon Donovan.

“Has Butterfield checked out her stalker?” Danny asked, pivoting the conversation. “He’s got to be in prison, right?”

“I know he was going to check him out,” Toby said, “but we haven’t had a status update on the investigation in a while.”

“And if they don’t find the shooter?”

“I don’t think they’re even entertaining that notion.”

“It’s been six weeks.”

“The longest six weeks of my life.” Toby began scribbling on his napkin again. “I’ll ask Butterfield for an update tomorrow.”

Both men fell silent, finishing off the food and their drinks.

“I want her to be happy,” Toby said abruptly.

“As do I.”

“If we’re in agreement on that … let’s go ahead with Saturday.”

Danny looked skeptical.

“Look, I know I blew it today. I lost my cool. But it was more that she didn’t tell me it was going to happen. If I know going into it, I can handle it. For her sake.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” Toby finished off his beer and reached for the check. “I’m sure.”

“Saturday then?”

“Saturday. And I don’t mind if you guys want to keep doing lunch. Just … be careful who sees you together.”

Danny nodded and gathered his things, reaching for his phone to call for an Uber. “Better leave your car,” he advised Toby. “We can share a ride.”

A tentative peace reached, the two men waited for their ride in silence.

Détente.

***


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CJ's assailant is finally caught ... so what happens now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: To the best of my knowledge, there is no hate group currently in existence called the Male Militia ... unfortunately, though, there are some similar to them, and a lot of violent, misogynistic incels. 
> 
> We learned so little about CJ's stalker that I wanted to loop him back in here. Sadly, he fit right in with the storyline.

**PART 11:**

“CJ!”

Josh caught up to her as she left the Press Room after her morning briefing.

“Morning.”

“What happened to ‘good’?”

“There is nothing good about this morning.” She headed for the Mess. “I need coffee.”

“Same.” Josh fell into step beside her. “Everything okay?” He studied her. “Are you still not sleeping well?”

CJ nodded reluctantly. Even with a Tramadol and the glass of wine she drank after Toby and Danny went home, she’d still had a hard time falling asleep and had woken from a nightmare (what else was new?) at 4am. 

“How long did it take you before you got a full night’s sleep?”

“Couple of months.”

CJ groaned.

“But it got better once I started talking to Stanley. You should call him, CJ. Seriously. It can’t hurt.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Which is a really polite way of saying ‘no.’”

That got a laugh out of her. “I really will think about it, Josh. I’ve just got a lot on my plate today.”

“And I think you’re about to get one more thing,” Josh murmured. “Here comes Ron Butterfield.”

CJ swallowed hard as the head of the President’s Secret Service detail strode up to her. She was suddenly unaccountably nervous.

“Ms. Cregg. Mr. Lyman.” Butterfield gave them both a cordial nod. “Ms. Cregg, we’ve just received some information about your case. Let’s find somewhere to talk.”

CJ nodded, glancing around for an unoccupied space. They ended up in an office that was empty of furniture except for a desk and an office chair. CJ sat on the edge of the desk. Josh stood beside her.

“What’s going on?” she asked through numb lips.

“We have the identity of the shooter. The FBI is assisting us on this matter, and we should have him in custody by the end of the day.”

She had no idea, really, how to react to that, so she stayed still for a moment, just taking in the information, aware that she needed to say something but not at all sure what.

Josh touched her arm. “CJ?”

“I…was not expecting that to be the way I start my day.” She blew out a slow, controlled breath. “Okay. Well …” She met Butterfield’s steady gaze. “Am I allowed to ask who it is?”

“We’re not quite ready to share that information yet, Ms. Cregg.”

“Is that because the answer is going to scare me?”

Butterfield paused long enough for both CJ and Josh to know the answer was yes. “I think we’re all going to feel better once the arrest had been made.”

She shuddered. Josh squeezed her arm.

“We are planning to make the arrest later today. I’ll let you know as soon as that’s happened, then we can all sit down and talk.”

“Has the President been briefed on this?”

“I’m headed there now. I wanted you to be the first to know.”

CJ nodded, her body feeling like it was operating completely independently of her consciousness. “Thank you, Ron.”

“You’re welcome, Ms. Cregg. I’ll keep you apprised. Stay near a phone.”

“I will.”

Butterfield nodded to them both and left, shutting the door behind him.

Josh still had his hand on her arm. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Do you want me to find Toby?”

“In a minute. We need to go talk to Leo first.” 

Josh gave his head a sharp shake as if to clear it. “Yeah. You’re right. Let’s go find Leo. He’ll--”

“Know what to say?” CJ laughed; it had the slight edge of hysteria to it. “I don’t think there’s a script for ‘the FBI is about to capture the guy who tried to kill you.’”

It was Josh’s turn to shudder. “Suddenly, I don’t need coffee anymore. I can’t get any more wired than this.”

“Me either. Let’s go.”

They headed upstairs, ducking into CJ’s office so she could grab her phone. Josh peeked through Toby’s open door. He wasn’t there, so they continued toward Leo’s office, where, in contrast, the door was firmly shut. They could see Margaret out in the bull pen, talking to Donna.

Josh knocked and Leo immediately responded with “come in.”

Toby, Ron Butterfield, and the President were all in Leo’s office. President Bartlet stood when they walked in, his eyes on CJ.

“Are you ready for this?”

“I’m ready to put it behind me,” she said.

“It might not be as behind you as you think,” he warned.

“It’s going to be a big story,” Leo added.

“Well, sure--”

“No, I mean _huge_. It’s …” He met Butterfield’s eyes. “Let’s just tell her, Ron. She’s going to find out soon enough.”

“It would be more prudent to--”

“Ron, please. As a fellow member of the club--” She gestured to herself, Josh, the President and Butterfield, “—tell me what’s going on.”

Butterfield nodded. “We are about to take into custody one of the members of the Male Militia.”

“Those misogynistic men’s rights assholes?!” CJ flared. “Are you kidding me?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“What are we talking about here, guys who hate women so much that they spend all their time online talking about how inferior we are to them?”

“The Male Militia’s gone beyond that,” Leo said grimly. “They’ve grown into a full-on hate group.”

“What the hell do they have against me?” CJ asked, though she knew exactly what men like that would have against a woman like her.

“C’mon, CJ,” Josh said. “You’re a highly visible woman in a position of power within this administration.”

“I’m the Press Secretary, Josh!”

“You’re the face and voice of the White House,” Toby said quietly. “You’re who most people see when they turn on their TV or scroll their news feed.”

“Jesus.” CJ stared from one face to the other. “How did you find this out, Ron?”

“You don’t have to dig too deeply into 4chan to find some truly heinous chatter from the Men’s Militia,” Butterfield said. “One of their threads kept alluding to ‘the big score.’ We finally figured out they were referring to shooting you.”

CJ was starting to feel physically ill. Leo must have caught it on her face, because he poured a glass of water and passed it to her. Josh, who had been standing nearby, shifted a step closer.

“So, who--” She took a sip of water to ease the dryness in her throat and tried again. “Who are you arresting?”

“The shooter’s a guy named Evan Crouch. He’s your run-of-the-mill incel. Spends a lot of time on Reddit and 4chan, trolling various sites, making grandiose statements about all the women he’d like to pay back for variously ignoring him, taking jobs he’s qualified for, and withholding sex. Guys like that are, sadly, a dime a dozen on those sites.” 

“But there’s more,” CJ guessed.

“We’ve got him linked to Greg Marsden.”

Toby whistled softly. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” Leo said. “That’s why this is huge and not going away.”

“How does one of the heaviest of the heavy hitters in the DC legal scene end up with ties to a Male Militia asshole?” Josh asked.

“Those men’s rights lawsuits don’t just end up in court by themselves,” the President said. “There’s always a lawyer or two willing to take them. Greg Marsden is that guy.”

“Did Marsden have anything to do with it?” CJ asked Butterfield.

“We’re looking into that possibility,” he responded. “We’re arresting Crouch in a few hours. We’re also setting up surveillance on Marsden. We’ll see what transpires once Crouch goes down.” He looked troubled. “We decided to take a second look at the hate mail that you were receiving from your stalker a year ago.”

“He _is_ still in jail, isn’t he?” CJ asked.

“Oh yes,” Butterfield said grimly. “It turns out that his rhetoric and writing style are similar to what we’ve been seeing from other Male Militia members.”

“One misogynistic jackass sounds a lot like another, I would guess,” CJ said.

“They do and they don’t,” Butterfield said cryptically. “Let’s just say we have reason to look at your stalker again a lot more closely. If we end up linking him to the Male Militia, which it’s entirely possible we might be able to do, we may need to look at him for a host of other incidents as well. There may be any number of women in power he was stalking before he zeroed in on you.”

CJ decided to take the better part of valor and looked around for a place to sit. Leo gave her his chair.

“I know this is a lot all at once,” Leo said apologetically. “But we need a strategy here. The Marsden connection might come out quickly, or it might not come out at all.”

“They certainly aren’t going to hear it from us,” Butterfield said.

“We need to figure out how we’re going to field all of this, so let’s take an hour and formulate some talking points. CJ, if you want Will to--”

“No. I can handle it.”

“Only if you’re--”

“I’m sure, Leo, okay?” She dialed back her anger. “Sorry. I appreciate the concern, but I can handle the briefing.”

Leo nodded slowly. “Okay. Let’s get to work.”

***

Her head was aching by the time she left Leo’s office an hour later. Josh gave her a pat on her good shoulder.

“Come find me when you’re ready for a Starbucks run. I’ll buy you the good stuff.”

“You’ll send Donna for the good stuff, you mean.”

“Fair enough. But I’m still buying.”

He headed for his office, CJ for hers. When she saw Katie, Steve, Greg, and a few other reporters talking to Carol, she quickly ducked inside Toby’s office so that she wouldn’t have to address them.

Toby looked up from his work, clearly surprised to see her there. “Everything okay?”

“I’m not quite ready to deal with the ravening hordes.”

Toby stood, stretched, and got a bottle of water out of the mini-fridge, handing her one as well. “Talking points sorted out?”

CJ nodded. “There’s going to be a lot of ‘the Secret Service cannot comment on active investigations.’”

“If the gods are smiling, nothing will come out about Marsden… at least not right now.”

CJ rolled her eyes. “When are the gods ever smiling on us?”

“Well,” Toby got serious. “That bullet didn’t kill you. They were smiling that day.”

For some reason this choked her up. She took a sip of her water to cover it.

He gestured toward her shoulder. “How does it feel today?”

She grimaced. “Like I went way too hard at PT yesterday.”

Toby looked chastened. “Did I mention how sorry I am?”

“You did. But that’s really the least of our worries right now, don’t you think?” A chilling thought smashed into her brain with enough power to make her bolt upright. “Oh god! What if Secret Service pulls my detail when they make an arrest and then more of the Male Militia assholes come after me? What if--”

“CJ, wait, slow down.” Toby laid a hand on her arm. “Let me call Ron.” He quickly scrolled through his contacts. “Ron, it’s Toby Ziegler. Are you still in the building? Yeah? Can you swing by my office?” At the affirmative reply, he hung up. “He’s on his way.”

“This is the kind of stuff people go into witness protection for!” she exclaimed. “People die because they--”

“No one is dying,” Toby said firmly. “CJ, now that the FBI knows who this guy is and where he hangs out online, they’re going to be able to trace him and everyone who’s had contact with him. They’ll uproot the entire rotten tree.”

“Oh, get serious, you know the FBI can’t do a thing about hate groups. It’s protected speech. That’s why the KKK still exists!”

“And you know perfectly well that Ron isn’t going to pull your detail if there’s even the remotest possibility you’re in danger.”

Toby got up to answer the knock on his door. “You’re not pulling her detail, are you, Ron?” he asked before the agent could even get fully inside the office.

“Of course not. Whatever gave you that idea?”

“If you’re making an arrest--” CJ started.

“We need to see how far this goes,” Butterfield said. “If it turns out there was more to this attack than just this one angry incel … if it turns out to have been sanctioned by the Male Militia, or by someone outside of it, you’re going to continue to receive protection until we have put every person involved in jail and until we’re satisfied that your safety is assured.”

“What if you can’t do that?” CJ asked softly. “Assure my safety, that is.”

“As long as you have a detail, we can assure your safety.” Butterfield studied her. “What’s not sitting right with you?”

She laughed bitterly. “Finding out I’ve been targeted by a hate group.”

“I’m sorry,” Butterfield said. “Truly. I wish I had better news.”

“So, my detail remains.”

“Absolutely. And if I make any changes, I’ll let you know. Are there any agents you’d like to see rotated out? Anyone who’s not working out?”

“No, they’re all wonderful. But if any of them are sick of--”

“That’s a non-issue,” Butterfield said firmly. “You’re the deciding vote here.”

“They’ve all been excellent, but Bobby and Julianne have really done a superlative job.”

Butterfield nodded. “I’ll make a note of that. We’re going to keep you safe, Ms. Cregg.”

“Thank you, Ron.” She smiled warmly at him despite the headache that was moving into her temples. She sipped her water and took some steadying breaths as Toby bid the agent goodbye and shut the door behind him.

“Do you want to call Danny?”

“Why would I call Danny?” she asked, shocked that he’d even suggested it.

“To give him a head’s up on the arrest. It’ll be best if he hears it from you.”

“Why do you care what’s best for Danny? You guys were ready to come to blows last night.”

“We worked it out,” Toby said.

“You worked WHAT out?” she asked. “You didn’t actually get in a fight, did you?”

Toby laughed. “Two middle aged guys throwing punches in the DC street? Please. We found some common ground.”

CJ studied him with narrowed eyes. “Do I want to know what that is?”

“We love the same compelling, amazing, beautiful woman.” At her blush, he teased, “As if you didn’t know.”

She looked pleased. “As long as you’re not going to blacken each other’s eyes, I’m going to call that a win. I’ll call him. You’re right … it’s better that he hears it from me.”

Toby rose. “I’ll go see if I can find something to feed the ravening hordes until it’s time for the afternoon briefing.” He was gratified when she reached out to catch his hand, quickly brought it to her lips for a kiss, then released it. “See you shortly.”

He closed the door on her murmured greeting to Danny.

*** 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CJ, Toby, and Danny share a night together and come to some conclusions about all their futures.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Explicit sexual scenes, including a threesome.

**PART 12** **:**

The FBI made the arrest around lunch time, but didn’t announce it until 2pm, which gave the West Wing staff just enough time to prepare for the 3pm briefing. Since CJ was surely going to be asked about her feelings regarding the arrest to the exclusion of all other things, Ron Butterfield would go out first to answer questions about the investigation, arrest, and suspect. CJ would close out the briefing when he was finished. 

Instead of staying in his apartment, Danny had opted to come to the White House to cover the briefing for the Daily Mail. He wasn’t officially on assignment—technically he was taking a week’s worth of vacation time. But he had called his editor to ask if she wanted him to chase the story and she had, of course, said yes. So, Danny joined the rest of the reporters in the press room before the briefing, prompting a round of welcomes and excited discussion. CJ was grateful for the diversion his arrival created … she was able to avoid run-ins with the more tenacious reporters outside the press room before the start of the briefing. 

Butterfield was a pro. She hadn’t expected that. He released enough information for the press to feel that they weren’t being stonewalled, while keeping the most important investigative details quiet. He didn’t mention the link to Greg Marsden and, thankfully, no one asked about it. That would change, CJ knew. Give this group of reporters enough time on a computer and someone would unearth that connection. But it was a relief not to have to deal with it immediately.

As she had expected, there were personal questions the moment Butterfield turned the mike back over to her. She tried to answer in the same way Butterfield had—giving enough information to answer the question without giving up anything substantive. Because she was so well-liked, most of the press pool was willing to go easy on her and not press her for more information than she was willing to give. But Greg Brock kept after her, trying to pry answers out of her that she stubbornly refused to give up. He was so insistent on getting an answer to her feelings on the arrest beyond her original statement (“The Secret Service and the FBI have done commendable work … I’m grateful to them both”) that people actually started shifting uncomfortably in their chairs.

“Greg, lay off, okay,” Katie finally said. “She answered it.”

“That was a non-answer and you know it,” Greg shot back.

“Some of us have deadlines to meet,” Jim from the AP called from across the room. “Let her wrap it up.”

CJ quickly ended the briefing and walked out with Ron Butterfield, who darted his eyes at her phone, a reminder to stay available. She nodded and he disappeared down the hallway, heading for the Ellipse where, she assumed, a car would take him over to the Hoover Building and FBI headquarters.

“CJ!”

CJ sighed. She knew Greg Brock’s voice and could hear the agitation in it. Despite being sorely tempted to ignore him and keep walking, she slowed just enough to allow him to catch up, then continued down the hall to her office.

“Greg, what can I do for you?” She decided to keep it all business.

“You can actually answer my questions, for a start.”

“I did answer them.”

“Those were bullshit non-answers. You owe me and all of the others the courtesy of providing real ones.”

“I OWE you?” CJ stared at him incredulously. “I don’t think so. My feelings about all of this are my business.”

“I need something I can print. Your platitudes about the FBI and the Secret Service are disingenuous.”

“They aren’t,” CJ insisted. “They’ve done an excellent job with the case.”

“It took them six weeks to find this guy!” Greg said. “Are you telling me you consider that to be a job well done?”

“Whether I do or don’t isn’t your concern, Greg. I’m not the story.”

“You are and you know it. You have been from day one.”

“Well, you’re not getting anything else from me,” CJ said, starting to get really irritated with him. “I’ve gone on the record.”

“So, what, are you planning on giving real answers to Danny instead?”

Her heart leapt up into her throat, both at the tone in his voice and at the words themselves.

“Excuse me?”

“Are you going to leave the rest of us out in the cold and make sure Danny gets the scoop?”

“I don’t know what you think is happening between me and Danny--”

“Oh please, CJ, don’t insult my intelligence. He’s been away for almost a year but conveniently comes back to town right after you’ve been shot? What a great opportunity to get a profile on CJ Cregg, victim.”

“Jesus, Greg, are you serious? Danny’s not here to get a story out of me!”

“We all know he’s your pet. There’s no point in you pretending otherwise. So, you’ll give him the answers you won’t give to us and it’ll be Danny on top, once again.”

CJ gaped at him. “Okay, I don’t know where this is coming from but you’re crossing a line. There is nothing going on between me and Danny.”

“So, you have quiet lunches at Old Ebbitt Grill with all your reporters? I suppose my invitation got lost.”

“Danny is my friend, Greg,” she said. “Which, frankly, is a lot more than you’re being right now. I don’t know what’s got you so pissed off, but I’d highly recommend changing your attitude before I pull your credentials.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me!”

He took a step towards her and her agents, who had been waiting for her a short distance down the hall, both moved aggressively forward. Greg saw and immediately raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I wasn’t--”

“Greg, you need to back off,” CJ said. Her heart was thudding hard. “I don’t know what’s going on with you today, but unless you want to spend the rest of the day having my Secret Service agents try to figure it out, you’ll walk away right now.”

“Look, I’m just--” Greg looked agitated, glancing from her agents to CJ and back again. “You know I wouldn’t--”

“Go write and file your story,” she said, trying for a calm that she didn’t feel. “And we’ll pretend this never happened.”

Greg ran his hand through his hair, disheveling it. “I didn’t mean--” He looked as though he was running over the last few minutes in his head. “I’m sorry, that’s not how I wanted that conversation to go.”

“Neither did I.”

“I--”

“Go,” CJ said. “We’ll talk some other time.”

Greg headed back to the press room, hands in his pockets.

“Ms. Cregg?” Kevin asked, his raised eyebrow clearly indicating that he was waiting for her to respond.

“I’m fine. Thank you.” She headed toward her office, praying no more reporters were waiting for her there. There were none. She closed her office door, sank down on her couch, and closed her eyes, waiting for the headache pounding in her temples to go away.

***

“Is there any particular reason why Greg Brock kept shooting me dirty looks all afternoon?” Danny asked as he, CJ, and Toby sat down around CJ’s kitchen table that evening with plates of carbonara and a bottle of red wine.

CJ rolled her eyes. “He’s got it into his head that you’re here to scoop the rest of them by getting the inside story on my recovery from--” The phrase ‘attempted murder’ actually dried her mouth out, so she opted for the much less eloquent, “--the thing.” 

“Greg thinks I came all the way from London to charm a story out of you?” Danny looked incredulous. “Seriously?”

“Oh yes.” CJ shoved her plate away, her appetite gone. “We had words about it.”

“What kind of words?” Toby asked, taking a sip of his wine. He was studying her with the long considering looks that he gave to a particularly tangled sentence he was trying to smooth out.

“Heated ones.”

“You got in an argument with Greg Brock? The guy’s normally so laid back he’s practically horizontal.”

Danny snorted at that. “I’m going to have to remember that one.” He peered at CJ. “Whatever he said got under your skin.”

“It doesn’t take much to do that these days.” She got up and rummaged in the medicine cabinet for the bottle of Advil, swallowed three. She wanted a clear head and the Tramadol tended to make her feel woozy. “He made some remarks about you being my pet. I guess he saw us at the Old Ebbitt Grill the other day.”

Danny waved it off. “Greg’s always been a bit of an ass, you know that. And, frankly, he had a crush on you, and it pissed him off he never could catch your attention.”

CJ shook her head despairingly. “Men are more trouble than they’re worth, I swear to God.”

Both Toby and Danny laughed. Toby poured another glass of wine for himself and topped off her glass and Danny’s. “You should eat,” he prompted gently.

“I can’t.” She sipped her wine, took a tiny bite of her pasta.

“You need to keep your strength up.”

CJ rolled her eyes. “My god, if that doesn’t sound like a line out of a soap opera, I don’t know what does.”

Toby ran a finger down the back of her neck, making her shiver. “For Saturday, remember?”

She had completely forgotten about Saturday, in light of the insanity of the day. The thought of it filled her with a sudden upwelling of warmth.

“What if I don’t want to wait till Saturday?” she heard herself asking.

Both men looked at each other. Clearly neither of them had considered that question.

“You want to do this now?” Danny asked. “All three of us?”

The idea sounded better and better the more she thought about it.

“I want to celebrate that I’m alive and that the asshole shooter is going to rot in prison for the rest of his life,” she said. “Don’t you think that’s worth an intimate little party?”

“I think it’s _definitely_ worth an intimate little party.” Danny took her hand. “Are you sure this is how you want to do it? If you want it to just be you and Toby for a while, I can always--”

“No. I want you both.” She looked over her shoulder at Toby. “Please.”

“You’ve got it.” Danny rose, then helped her up.

It took everyone a moment to figure out what to do next. Finally, Toby leaned in and whispered in her ear, “I’ll be right here when you’re ready for me,” before giving her a gentle nudge toward Danny.

Danny wrapped her in his arms, kissing her passionately, one hand in her hair, the other on the small of her back. She pressed her hips against his, and he shuddered, deeply turned on.

“CJ, you’re so beautiful,” he murmured in her ear. “I want you more than I can say.”

“I want you too.” She began unbuttoning his shirt. “I’ve never stopped wanting you, not for a minute.”

Her shirt came off next, leaving her in a camisole and a thin gold necklace from the waist up. He trailed kisses down her throat and then over her bad shoulder, tracing the scar tissue and cavitation marks with his tongue. The sensation of his hot tongue on that sensitive tissue was overwhelming; she felt herself get a little weak-kneed.

Danny sank to his knees in front of her and kissed her stomach, running his tongue across the silk of her skin before nipping and then soothing the small mark he left behind.

“Toby,” he said, never taking his eyes off CJ. “Why don’t you join us.”

Then the heat of Toby’s body was right behind hers and his lips came down to graze her shoulder and the back of her neck. He nipped at her good shoulder—he was too cognizant of how sensitive the bad one was to do anything more than lightly brush it with his mouth—and she shuddered. Danny grasped her hips while Toby’s hands came to her upper arms to steady her.

Danny paused long enough to check in with her. “You okay?”

She had to take a minute just to breathe, to think. “I’m…a little overwhelmed.”

“Should we go slower then?” He rubbed his thumb over her hip bone. “Do you want just one of us at a time?”

“No, I like this. I’m just--All of a sudden I’ve got butterflies.”

“Me, too,” Toby whispered in her ear. “Just relax.”

“This can stop whenever you want it to,” Danny reminded her. “You’re in control.”

“I know.” She twined her fingers with his. “Let’s …go back to the bedroom. All of us.”

Strange to see Danny in the room she had only shared with Toby up until now. Strange to see them both watching her with open admiration, their eyes roaming over her body. It all felt too heady, too intense, almost like a fever dream.

Danny looked concerned; her unease must have shown on her face. “Toby’s right … you should have eaten more.”

CJ laughed, which made the tension ease. “To keep my strength up?”

“This might get strenuous, is all I’m saying,” he replied, which made both CJ and Toby laugh.

“I’m fine. This is all just a bit surreal.”

“You and Danny should start,” Toby said. I won’t jump in until you’re ready for me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” He lowered himself into the chair by the bed. “Show me how he makes you feel good.”

It was awkward at first, knowing that Toby was watching them as they stripped, kissed, and caressed, but it soon became less so. The awkwardness transformed into tension which built to a warm, sweet friction as Danny moved over the landscape of her body, coaxing soft moans of passion out of her as he went. He wanted to please her, of course, but he also wanted to prove that he was worthy of CJ, that he could satisfy every need and every desire. 

“Are you ready for me, sweetheart?” he whispered. “I want to be inside you.”

“Yes,” she murmured back. “That’s exactly where I want you.”

She guided him to her and groaned at the sheer intensity of sensation when he slid inside of her. She could feel the hot hard length of him in her belly, and something about that single stroke of friction and heat in her already overstimulated system sent her dangerously close to an orgasm.

“Jesus, Danny!” she gasped out, not at all sure she could manage a coherent sentence. “I don’t know how I’m so close but, oh God, I’m SO close. Please…”

He thrust strongly into her once, then again, a third time, then held her while she climaxed, coaxing tremors out of her with his fingertips. Her body subsided from one orgasm but then rose almost immediately toward the crest of a second as he began moving in and out of her again. He moved slowly this time, drawing it out, listening for the change in her breathing that told him he was close to pushing her over the edge.

“That’s it, love,” he murmured, rocking shallowly to give her some relief from the intense thrusts, “come for me again.”

She buried her face in his shoulder and cried out, clutching at the hard muscles in his back as she shook. He gave himself over to his climax, coming inside of her with such force he felt a little lightheaded himself.

He laid his forehead against hers and smoothed her hair with an unsteady hand.

Remembering Toby, he glanced over. He was watching them, his hand lazily stroking over his fly. His eyes were hot with desire. He moved over to the bed and joined them, settling down behind CJ to kiss the back of her neck.

“Are you ready for me?” he asked.

CJ laughed shakily. “I need a minute to get my breath back.”

“Take your time.” He stroked her hair, brushing it back from her sweaty forehead. “Feeling more relaxed now?”

“Oh yeah.” She gave him a slow grin. “Did you like that?”

“I loved that.” He slid his hands down, running his hands across her breasts, then down her rib cage, then lower still. “I like seeing you out of control.”

He shifted positions, easing her back against the pile of pillows, noting that Danny had changed places and was sitting in the chair where he’d been earlier, watching, his eyes on CJ.

“Second thoughts?”

“No.” She laid a hand on his cheek and he leaned into the warmth of it. “Be gentle with me.”

He turned his face just enough to kiss her palm. “I couldn’t be anything else.”

It was easier than he thought to stop noticing Danny’s presence. Though they had only spent two nights away from each other, he was eager to be with CJ again. Focusing on her needs and wants allowed him to forget that Danny, the man who had also shared her bed and her heart, was watching from across the room.

He turned all his attention into satisfying her, forcing himself to move slowly despite his own hunger. He remembered the first night they had been together for “relaxation”—not the frenetic energy of their first coupling, but the sweet, slow, tenderness of the ones after, the way he explored her body with reverence and devotion. He sought to replicate that now, kissing her gently, testing the waters, working her up. It was an effort to hold back from burying himself inside of her, but it was worth it when she tightened her fingers in his back and groaned his name into his ear when he eased inside and rocked her toward a climax.

Danny had given her sudden, explosive pleasure that shook her to the core; he opted for a slow burn that built to a long, rolling climax, a wave of sensation that went on and on as he stroked and teased her. He made her hips jerk and her back arch while she came once, then again, under his skillful fingers, withholding his own orgasm until she lay next to him, breathing hard, her cheeks flushed and lovely.

“Toby, my god.” She exhaled deeply. “That was amazing.”

He kissed her forehead. “Do you need to rest?”

“Not just yet.” She bent to take his cock into her mouth and proceeded to work him with so much skill and enthusiasm that all he could do was lean back on his elbows and ride out the wave of sensation pouring over him from her mouth and hands. It slammed into him before he had time to prepare for it. He grabbed handfuls of the sheet and ground out “fuck, CJ!” as he came, panting out her name as he erupted.

He dimly felt her kiss him before disappearing to bring back a washcloth for them both. Her hand was cool on his stomach as she wiped all the traces of his climax away. She stretched back out next to him, twining her fingers with his. 

Danny came back over to share the bed, lying on one side of CJ while Toby lay on the other.

“Think you can handle both of us?” Danny asked her, half teasing, half serious. “Or would you rather …”

“Oh, I can handle you both,” she said. “I’m looking forward to it.” She pulled him toward her with one hand on the back of his neck and kissed him deeply. The other hand stayed entwined with Toby’s. “But I really do need a minute to recover.”

“Take all the time you need.” He shifted and sat up. “I’m going to get my wine. Anyone else?”

The wine turned out to be the catalyst for the next part of the evening. Instructing CJ to lie back, Toby dripped a trail of wine down her stomach and then lapped it up, which both turned her on tremendously and gave her a fit of the giggles.

Danny got in on the action, too, dipping his fingers into the merlot and painting intricate swirls around her breasts before licking up every drop. She balled her hands in the sheets, alternating between helpless laughter and soft moans of pleasure, as both men licked and sucked at her body.

“Want to kick it up a notch?” Toby asked, a wicked gleam in his eye.

CJ bit her lip, a little unsure, then nodded. “Okay.”

“Slide down to the end of the bed, legs over the side.”

She did as Toby instructed. He knelt between her legs and parted them. He stopped her with a hand on her knee when she made a move to lie back. “It’s more intense sitting up. Danny’s going to get behind you and brace your back.”

Danny moved in behind her and slid his arms around her. She leaned her head back against his shoulder. 

“Now, don’t move. Stay exactly where I put you … if you can.”

Toby began to lap at her, arousing her so much, so fast, that she couldn’t even speak for a moment. “Oh Toby!” she finally managed. “Oh my god!” She tried to part her legs even further to get more of the sensation, but he slid his hands along the outsides of her thighs and held her still as he used his tongue to pleasure her.

CJ writhed as he teased and licked her, trying to get her hips up off the bed. He slid his hands away from her thighs and up to her hips, holding them down so that she had to remain still. He kept lapping at her with the same slow, maddening pace, coming close to but never actually giving her what she needed to spill her over into a climax.

Behind her, Danny ran his hands over her breasts and kissed her neck, whispering wicked suggestions for what he’d love to be doing to her in her ear. He used his hot tongue to lave at the sensitive skin on her bad shoulder, causing all the nerve endings to tingle up and down her arm.

“Let me feel it, beautiful,” Danny murmured. “Come for me, sweetheart.”

When she did finally come it was with a harsh groan, the sensation too big for words. Her fingers bore down hard on Danny’s, her body completely taken over by pleasure so immense that it was almost too much to withstand. She pressed her head against his shoulder and arched her back, close to screaming but unable to find her voice for it. 

“One more, sweetheart,” Danny whispered, “one more time. Come again, I know you can.”

“I can’t, oh god, please.” She was panting, close to sobbing from so much stimulation. Her vision was starting to grey out at the edges. “It’s too much.”

Danny could see she really was overwhelmed, and he gentled his touch. “Toby, ease up.”

He stopped immediately, releasing his hold on her hips and letting her sink back onto the mattress. “Claudia?” He laid a hand across her stomach; he could feel her shaking deep into her core. “Was it too much all at once?”

“Way too much.” She unwound her fingers from Danny’s and wiped at the sweat and tears on her face. “The two of you together is enough to burn me up.”

“Let me get you some water.” Danny disappeared down the hall and returned with a bottle of water and a cool cloth. He stroked the inside of her thighs with the cloth, cleaning away the traces of their lovemaking.

Toby climbed onto the bed next to CJ and kissed her tenderly. “Are you okay?”

“I am now.” She sipped water and then pressed the bottle to her too hot forehead. “If it tells you anything about your prowess as a lover, you nearly made me pass out.” She included Danny. “Both of you.”

That was clearly alarming to Toby. “Jesus! I’m sorry, sweetheart, I had no idea.”

“We’re done for the evening then,” Danny said. He pulled on his t-shirt and boxer briefs, then came to sit on the bed next to her. “I draw the line at anything that requires a fainting couch.”

CJ grinned ruefully. “I think some of it is that I didn’t eat enough dinner and we just burned through at least a thousand calories of physical activity.”

“That one’s an easy fix. We’ve got leftovers for days.” Danny patted her knee. “I’ll bring some back.”

CJ and Toby both dressed while Danny was getting the food—t-shirt and boxer briefs for Toby, running shorts and a tank top for CJ. She considered putting the sling on, then decided she ultimately didn’t need it … though she would need to ice her shoulder before bed for sure.

Danny brought bowls of carbonara from the kitchen and they fell on the pasta with gusto. CJ had her appetite back, much to Danny and Toby’s ill-concealed relief. She’d lost weight over the last six weeks because the pain sapped her energy to eat; they were glad to see one more sign that she was starting to head back toward normalcy.

“That was wonderful,” CJ said with a contented sigh, leaning back against the pillows. “Thank you, Danny.”

“I’m still working on perfecting the recipe, but I think I’m getting closer.” He picked up the bowls and headed for the kitchen. Toby followed with the wine glasses.

“I’m going to head back to my apartment shortly,” Danny said, loading plates and bowls into the dishwasher. “My editor emailed a bit ago; she wants me to send updates on the arrest as they unfold. I’m going to get up early and put in a call to London.”

Toby considered whether to mention Greg Marsden but decided to take the better part of valor and didn’t. He did say, however, “There’s more to the story than what the FBI released today. I can’t say any more until Leo tells me I can, but there is a larger story here.”

Danny’s eyes gleamed. “Enough to warrant another few days here?”

“If it breaks the way I think it will, yeah. It might not. But if it does, it would be worth your time to stay a bit longer.”

“But you’re not prepared to give me any more than what you’re saying?”

“No way.”

“And CJ isn’t either.”

“Definitely not.”

Danny nodded. “I’ll mention to my editor that there may be a bigger story here and see what she says.”

He ran hot water in the sink and began washing the wine glasses, while Toby wrapped up the leftovers. They worked in companionable silence for a few minutes until Danny said, “So, Greg Brock made it pretty clear why it wouldn’t work for me to come back here as a reporter.”

“You said yourself that he was being an ass.”

“He definitely was. But he’s not the only person who thinks that way about CJ and me… he’s just the only one who had the balls to say it to her face.”

“So, you’re going to stay in London?”

“I don’t want to leave her … but as long as our jobs are what they are, we can’t be together without gossip and speculation and questions of favoritism. It would make both of us look bad. I don’t care about that for me as much as I do for her.”

“When are you going to tell her?”

“Tell me what?” CJ padded into the kitchen, pulled her shoulder wrap out of the freezer, and applied it. She leaned back against the counter near the sink to watch Danny as he worked. 

“That I’m going back to London. Not right away… my editor wants me to work on this story, maybe do a piece on the Male Militia and other hate groups… but I am going back.”

“Of course you are. What would have kept you here?”

“You.”

“I don’t want to be the reason you stay. You love it over there. And at some point, they’re going to want you long-term.” She studied his face, then intuited, “They do already.”

“They offered me a two-year contract,” he admitted.

“Take it. It’s an amazing opportunity. We have 18 more months in office. After that, Toby and I both have decisions to make about where we go and what we do. But it sounds to me like we all know what we’re doing for the next year and a half.”

Danny blew out a shaky breath. “I don’t want to be apart from you that long,” he admitted. “Not now. Not after all of this.”

“You’re only nine hours away by plane,” CJ pointed out. “It takes the same amount of time to cross the Atlantic as it does to cross the country.”

“You’d come visit?”

“Are you going to take me to Highclere Castle if I do?”

Toby laughed. After a moment, so did Danny.

“Absolutely.”

“I’m sure the President can find something pressing to do in England.” She stepped close to Danny and wrapped her arms around him. “I’ll visit,” she whispered. “I promise.”

Danny kissed her gently, then pulled back. “And while you’re here …”

“While I’m here, I have Toby.”

Danny studied them both, hard, then nodded. “It’s not like there haven’t been rumors circulating about the two of you for years now.”

Both CJ and Toby looked astounded. Danny laughed. “You’d have to be blind to miss the chemistry between you.”

They both blushed, then grinned at each other.

“I don’t mind,” Danny said. “Not really. At least I don’t mind now. There will probably be a fist fight when we revisit this down the road, but if I can’t be here, then I want someone else to be. And I sure as hell don’t want it to be Greg Brock.” He caressed CJ’s cheek. “Just don’t forget me while I’m gone.”

“I couldn’t possibly.” She kissed him sweetly, slowly. “Thank you for understanding how much I need this … how much I need him. I couldn’t do this alone, not when there will be a trial that I’ll have to testify at.”

She could tell that particular thought hadn’t occurred to either man.

“We’ve still got a long road ahead.”

Toby brushed his lips over her temple. “We’re both here for it.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CJ, Toby, and Danny look to the future.

**PART 13:**

“Eighteen more months,” she whispered in Danny’s ear three weeks later as she gave him a warm hug.

“Until what precisely?” He locked his arms around her waist, unwilling to let her go until he absolutely had to.

“You take me all over England and Scotland to every castle, abbey, and cathedral you can stand.”

“There are over 2,000 castles in Scotland alone,” Danny laughed.

“I have no plans to hurry back here,” she said. “After eight years in the White House I think I can afford to take a European vacation.”

“Holiday,” he corrected with a wink. “Better start getting your terminology right.”

CJ laughed. She touched his cheek. “You’ll call when you land?”

“You know I will. You’ll come to London for Christmas?”

“Wouldn’t miss it. Will there be figgy pudding?”

“There will be whatever you want. Puddings. Shopping in Harrods. Walking at Hampton Court Palace. Making love in front of the fireplace in my flat. Anything that makes you happy.”

“You make me happy.” CJ leaned in to kiss him. “I love you.”

“And I love you, sweetheart.” He kissed her deeply, thoroughly, wanting to stay tangled up in her arms until he missed his flight. Finally, with regret, he stepped out of her embrace, but not before he’d kissed her one last time. “I’ll see you again soon.”

CJ stepped back, biting her lip to keep her eyes from welling up with tears. Toby’s arm came around her waist.

“Take care of her,” Danny said to Toby. “And yourself.”

“I will. Safe travels.”

Danny joined the line of passengers heading toward the international terminal. CJ and Toby watched him until he was swallowed up in the crowd.

Toby gave her a gentle squeeze. “Ready to get back?”

She thought of the day ahead, which included four meetings, one of which was with the White House counsel, briefings, PT, a phone consult with Stanley Keyworth, and a meal with her best friend and lover, and then of the stretch of more than 600 days that were left for them to make all the difference they could before another administration took over.

She took a deep, steadying breath and squared her shoulders. The right one ached—it likely always would to some degree, but she was learning to live with it. Abbey Bartlet had urged her to take a yoga class and she found it was helping … and the additional flexibility it afforded her was something both she and Toby were finding very pleasant indeed.

Her eyes sought out Julianne and Bobby in the crowd—they had stepped back to give her relative privacy with Danny-- and gave them both a nod. There had been no additional threats in the three weeks since Crouch’s arrest … at least none that she’d heard of … but it helped her peace of mind to have her agents there. They fell into step behind her and Toby as they headed for the sliding doors that would let them out into the cool air.

“I’m still having trouble sticking the landing on that paragraph about urban renewal. Can you take a look at it?” Toby asked as they climbed in the SUV.

“You’d actually trust me with it?” she teased.

“I’d trust you with my life,” he said, twining his fingers with hers.

“The same goes,” she replied, squeezing his hand. “Every day.”

END


End file.
